


Cracked

by Mermaid_in_a_Manhole



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Dark Harry, Dragen's Slave Challenge, Evil Harry Potter, F/M, Forced Pregnancy, Harry owns slaves, Multi, Piss Play, Powerful Harry, Rape, Slaves, Smut, Underage Rape/Non-con, Very Dark Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:33:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21831481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mermaid_in_a_Manhole/pseuds/Mermaid_in_a_Manhole
Summary: Seven days after Sirius' death, Harry's mentality snaps. He decides that what he wants most in the world is to be left alone, with a slave or two to keep him sated. Fortunately, things at the Will reading go his way, and he leaves with Tonks as his first slave. Over the summer, he proves to be a cruel man when in power over others as he steadily gathers more slaves. He wants out of Britain, and nothing will stand in his way. Dragen's Slave Challenge, cross-posted to HP Fanfic Archive and Adult-Fanfiction.
Relationships: Gabrielle Delacour/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Nymphadora Tonks, Harry Potter/Other(s), Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 54
Kudos: 510





	1. Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any characters or plot points you recognise from the Harry Potter universe, nor am I making any money from this.

Seven days after the death of Sirius, Harry cracked. He had been under so much pressure that year, and had been forced to endure more mental and physical pain than anyone should have to endure that it was a miracle he hadn’t cracked already. He’d been suffering from nightmares for as long as he could remember, starting with the murder of his mother, but after the events of his first year at Hogwarts, he had more material: the troll smashing Hermione to bits and then turning on him and Ron, Voldemort killing him after he’d finished off the unicorn and drinking his blood, the queen chess piece stabbing Ron instead of just dragging him off the board, Hermione choosing the wrong potion and being poisoned, and himself being burned alive by Quirrell instead of the other way round. This gave him nightmares nearly every night, angering his uncle to the extreme and causing his abuse of Harry to increase, so he created what he thought of as a compartment within his brain. It stored all the memories of the horrible things that had caused his nightmares, and while they were locked away, he could still remember them without being traumatised all over again. It wouldn’t be until fifth year when he would realise that he’d created a Pensieve of sorts within his mind.

When his compartment worked, he started moving all the memories of the Dursleys’ abuse and Dudley’s bullying there, and each subsequent year, he would put nightmare-worthy memories inside. By the time he started his fifth year, more than half of all his memories were in his compartment, due to the majority of his childhood being moved there, and the Horcrux he unknowingly carried had migrated there to feed off the fear, hate, and pain within, growing stronger every day. His compartment was overflowing, and thus he suffered from nightmares of Cedric’s death and Voldemort’s rebirth. When Snape started ‘teaching’ him Occlumency, he only managed to see what was in the compartment, plus a few random memories from outside, and his methods cracked the fragile protective layer around the compartment, widening the link between Horcrux and Creator, and stirring up the memories into a frenzy. Then, when Sirius died, Harry’s hope died with him. His whole reason for creating the compartment in the first place was because he wanted to hold onto the hope that someday he would get away from everything causing him pain. The revelation of Sirius’ innocence at the end of third year made his hope intensify tenfold, hanging onto the idea that when Sirius was acquitted, his hope would come to fruition.

That would never be able to happen now. Sure, when he’d listlessly visited his friends in the hospital wing, Hermione had mentioned that the Daily Prophet had said that Sirius had been posthumously declared innocent, but that certainly didn’t help him at all. Since he’d returned from the Ministry and suffered through Dumbledore’s explanation of the Prophecy and what it meant, he’d had more nightmares, not just of Cedric’s death, but of Sirius’, too. He hadn’t been able to cope, and the events of the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, as the Prophet was calling it now, had caused the cracks of the compartment to widen and spread. Suffering from an intense migraine and lack of more than two hours of sleep, he stumbled down the magical staircases until he got to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey looked up at his entrance. “Mr Potter,” she said. “Here for your daily visit with your friends, I gather?”

“I… yes, Madam Pomfrey, but I need to talk to you first,” he managed to say.

The Matron’s lips pursed, whether it was in annoyance, worry, or exasperation, he didn’t know. “Very well. Come this way.”

He entered her office for the first time and tried not to stare at the towering bookshelves on one side of the room and sat himself down in the chair facing the desk on the other side. “What did you need to speak about, Mr Potter?” Madam Pomfrey sighed.

“I… I haven’t slept more than two hours at a time for the past six nights, ma’am,” he started. “Nightmares. Last night, I only slept two hours in total, and I woke up with this splitting headache. I’m exhausted, I can’t sleep, I can’t think, and I can barely manage to get myself to eat anything other than a bit of toast a day. I need help.”

He could have sworn she barely managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes. She waved her wand once towards him and read the parchment that popped out of the end of her wand. “As I suspected. There is nothing wrong with you. I can understand that you may be feeling a tad emotional about the death of Sirius Black, but really, if what you’re telling me is the truth, you’re letting that emotion get in the way of everything. You should be focusing on the fact that you and all of your friends didn’t die. True, it was particularly close for Mr Weasley and Miss Granger, but the point remains. Nightmares are the mind’s way of telling you that there’s something it needs to work through. Surely you can survive a few more days of mild discomfort! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other patients to attend to.”

She got up and left, leaving a stunned Harry behind. His brain couldn’t get past the phrases _tad emotional_ and _mild discomfort_. It circled around them for what seemed like hours, gathering force and speed, and finally the walls of his compartment came crashing down.

He giggled once, then again, in a slightly higher pitch.

His mind was finally free of the shackles he’d put on it, free to explore all the memories he’d hidden away. The Horcrux, now free as well, was the first thing his chaotic mind found. It tore the piece of Dark magic to pieces. There was a pain from his scar, a tiny scream, and then a puff of black smoke emerged from the scar, dissipating in the air almost instantly. The soul portion had been destroyed, all that remained now of the Horcrux was Voldemort’s memories up until the portion of his soul was deposited in Harry.

Voldemort’s memories, being far more numerous and better organised than Harry’s own, greatly influenced the way that his chaotic mind saw everything it was examining. Voldemort had been a very paranoid man, and for good reason; Dumbledore had been a dark, ominous figure to him during his Hogwarts years, and he had uncovered many atrocious actions and manipulations the Transfigurations teacher had committed. Only his closest friends had believed him. In time, he had learned to recognise when a manipulation was occurring. This particular recognition, as well as Voldemort’s skills in Occlumency, allowed Harry to quickly and neatly examine all of his memories, discover he had been manipulated all his life by one Albus Dumbledore, and organise and protect his mind.

When he opened his eyes again, there were very faint lines of crimson amongst the green of his iris. Then, they faded to brown. If anyone looked closely, they would assume that they had simply never noticed the colour before, and move on.

Harry cracked his neck on one side, then the other. He had work to do before school finished tomorrow. He exited the office, then made to leave the hospital wing, only to be called back by the idiotic traitor he had once called his best friend. “Oi, Harry! I thought you were gonna chat with us a while.”

Harry put on a sheepish look. “Sorry mate, I can’t today, I promised Neville I’d help him with something in the greenhouses, something about him starting up an informal apprenticeship with Sprout and taking on a bit more than he can chew.”

“Oh, that’s awfully kind of you, Harry. Give my best to Neville,” Hermione said, looking up from that morning’s Daily Prophet.

Ron snorted. “Fair enough, mate. Sucks to be you!”

Harry fought a grin, rolling his eyes instead. “Bye then, Ron, Hermione. I might see you later today, but if not, I’ll see you on the train tomorrow.”

They both waved at him, and he waved back as he went out the doors. Once far enough away from that horrid place, he slipped into an abandoned classroom and conjured a piece of parchment, a quill, and some ink, grateful to be able to use spells and magic that Voldemort had known.

_To Whom It May Concern:_

_I, Harry James Potter, have never received a single letter from Gringotts, and would like to politely point out that as the last member of the House of Potter, and therefore the Head of said House, I am entitled to receive quarterly account statements. As I know for a fact that not even the magical guardian of the last of a House may touch the funds of the House unless the charge signs a document with a Blood Quill, I find the absence of the account statements suspicious. As I am a well-known figure in Wizarding Britain, and specifically known to be a part of the rich and powerful House of Potter, I find this absence even more suspicious._

_I implore you to conduct an investigation into this matter, and I will be arriving at Gringotts tomorrow at five in the evening to conduct further matters of business I need to attend to._

_Respectfully,_

_Harry James Potter_

Next to his name, he deposited a drop of blood from his finger after he’d wandlessly pricked it. He sealed the letter, then ventured to the Owlery, sending the letter with Hedwig. Once she could no longer be seen in the cloudy sky, he exited the west tower and went up a few staircases until he came to the seventh floor. Opposite the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy, he paced thrice, thinking, _I need a place to hide my Horcrux… I need a place to hide my Horcrux… I need a place to hide my Horcrux…_

It was the only thing he knew would cause that specific version of the Room of Requirement to open, and he was glad when it did. He opened it to find that a lot more junk had accumulated over the forty or so years since Voldemort had last been here. For some reason, there were a lot of empty cooking sherry bottles right near the entrance, and he wrinkled his nose in disgust. Neither he, nor Voldemort had ever been fond of sherry, the latter because it was a women’s drink, and along with gin and tonic, had been the preferred drink of the matron of his orphanage, and Harry himself because it was what Petunia loved to drink and serve at those stupid gossip parties she had every week while Vernon was at work.

He looked around at the disorganised room in despair. Why couldn’t it all just be organised? There was a blurring of his surroundings, disorienting enough for him to have to close his eyes to adjust, then when he opened them, the room had changed: there were now neat stacks of chairs, tables, books, and all sorts of other things, meaning that the diadem would either be in a stack of jewellery or Dark objects. He decided that the other things he had wanted to do today could be left for sometime early in the summer—better to explore everything this room had stored away while he could, instead.

He turned down the first isle and was happy to find it had a collection of trunks, most of which had the hinges for the lid coming off. His own trunk was getting extremely worn, with the wooden slats falling apart, the hinges coming off, and the feather-light charm non-functional. So, he pictured exactly what he wanted, then waved his wand over the trunks. “Congrego,” he cast.

There was a flash of light, and the six trunks he wanted all merged into one which had six small dents next to each other on the lid. He pricked his finger again and let a drop fall on the lid of the trunk, then waved his wand and chanted a complicated blood-anchored glamour charm which made his new trunk look like his old one. He added a blood lock to the current locking mechanism which would cause only the first compartment to open should someone other than himself open it. Then, he placed fireproof, waterproof, and unbreakable enchantments on it, and put undetectable extension charms on the other five compartments. Finally, he made it able to shrink and unshrink at the deliberate tap of a wand, and made the second compartment have multiple compartments which had adjustable climate control charms for potions ingredients and the like.

He pulled the trunk behind him and stopped at the next ‘section’, as he thought of it. Honestly, it was like a huge department store! This section contained desks and bookshelves, so he opened the fourth compartment and conjured a huge slab of black marble inside, to act as a floor. Then, he selected a desk, a beautiful antique mahogany desk that probably had a dozen secret compartments which he couldn’t wait to find, and levitated it out of the way of the other desks. He shrunk it so it would fit through the mouth of the trunk, then re-sized it within and placed it in the centre of the marble floor. He did the same procedure for all of the bookcases in the room, placing them around the edges of the floor so he would have enough space for a comfy chair or two. He moved on to the books in the room, and simply levitated them all into his study, arranging them randomly on the available shelves. He had no time to go through any of them if he wanted to go through everything else in this fascinating room, so he would simply have to look through them during the summer. In the chair section, he selected a Muggle swivel chair for his desk, then put in a beanbag, a fancy green leather wingback armchair with a matching leg rest, and a comfortable couch. Of course, each of the chairs were slightly damaged in one way or another, but it was the work of a moment to either fix them or to conjure a part that had been missing for one reason or another.

The next aisle was bedroom furniture, so he opened up his fifth compartment and added an ebony floor before levitating in a super king-sized bed (after a thorough scouring charm and a sterilisation charm), some ebony bedside tables, some lamps, and some storage cabinets. He went back and added some floor and table lamps to his study compartment before continuing to the next aisle, which had remains of animals and all sorts of pet supplies. He didn’t really see a use for much of it, but he didn’t want to leave much behind, so he placed the animal remains in his potions ingredients compartment and put most of the intact pet furniture and supplies in his sixth compartment, which he had only just designated for miscellaneous storage. His only undesignated compartment so far was the third one, which would be for his clothes.

Speaking of clothes, he opened the third compartment, added a pine floor, then put in a long rail for all the clothes he would need to hang up when he bought it, levitated in two chests of drawers and two tallboys, which were in the next aisle, and finishing off with a full size mirror and a collection of assorted jewellery boxes which he laid on the chests of drawers and the tallboys.

The second last aisle had all sorts of jewellery, loose jewels, beauty products, wigs, and galleons. At the very end, the sherry bottles laid like interlopers among numerous other, far more rare and expensive bottles of alcohol. He simply levitated everything but the sherry bottles, beauty products, and wigs, then deposited the jewels and jewellery in his wardrobe, the galleons in his bedroom, and the alcohol in a single compartment of his potions ingredients trunk. The final aisle contained Dark and forbidden objects—mostly just simple things like a wastepaper basket that spewed out its contents and a music box which had an enchantment designed to mimic the effects of the Draught of Living Death, but there were also sealed vials of mystery blood, various poisons, a dormant Devil’s Snare, an Angel’s Trumpet plant, bracelets, rings, and necklaces designed to rip off the skin of the wearer, whips and canes designed to cause as much damage as possible, two hangman’s nooses which looked like they’d been used, and finally a St Andrew’s Cross which automatically bound anyone close enough and had their back turned. He happily stored all the objects in his storage trunk and then turned to the last item in the isle. There lay the infamous Lost Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, and he shrunk his trunk and pocketed it before levitating the diadem.

He made his way down to the Chamber of Secrets with it floating before him, and since it was now lunch time, he encountered no one. Luckily, Moaning Myrtle was not in her haunted bathroom; perhaps he should see about exorcising her? Well, he could think on that later. In the meantime, he lowered the diadem onto the filthy ground, tore out another Basilisk fang from the somehow not rotting corpse, and stabbed the central jewel. There was a horrible scream from the Horcrux, and black ectoplasm oozed out of the shattered sapphire, signifying the soul piece within was now dead.

Happy with this, Harry spent the next few hours rendering the corpse of the Basilisk into several bottomless vials he’d found in that remarkable room, which he stored with his other potions ingredients and alcohol. Then, he looked around the room to see if he’d missed something, and his gaze settled on the statue of Salazar Slytherin. His mouth was still open from when the Basilisk had exited it, and he assumed its lair was inside. He levitated himself up to Slytherin’s agape mouth and found himself in a smooth, dark tunnel. He went inside and eventually came to the light at the end of the tunnel, which was really an extremely warm room that had centuries worth of shed Basilisk skin. Happy with his find, he deposited it with his harvested skin and, not seeing anything else, he swiftly exited. He was slightly disappointed not to have found a secret library or ancient potions room, but he supposed that Slytherin, being an arrogant sort, would never have deigned to have a hideout where he stored his Basilisk.

Being finished with the Chamber, he went back up to the school, going back to his dorm room to pack almost everything in the trunk at the foot of his bed into the final compartment of his new trunk. As he looked around to see if he'd missed anything, his eye fell upon the sneakoscope Ron had given him before third year. For some reason, his mind leaped from that to the socks he'd hidden it on before the socks had been Dobby's Christmas present, and then to Dobby himself. Voldemort's research on house elves said that unless an elf was bonded to a person, it would die a horrible, slow death, often wasting away for years until succumbing to death. By no means did Harry care about Dobby's well-being now that his mind was free and merged with the Horcrux, but why buy an elf or 2, using his own money, when he had access to two perfectly good ones who would die if no one bonded to them? It would make Dobby feel even more indebted to him, and Winky would likely grasp the opportunity of a new master and family as tightly as possible without question.

He called for Winky and Dobby, and the latter appeared with an eager grin on his face, then threw himself at Harry's feet. “Harry Potter called for Dobby!”

Winky appeared, looking drunk and disheveled. “Harry Potter— _hic_ —called for Winky?”

Harry smiled. “Yes, I have called both of you here because I found out that if an elf is unbonded they will die, so I wanted to know whether you both would like to be my elves. At the moment, it's just me, not even a house, but soon my family will grow, and I would like you two as my elves.”

The two elves stared at him in wonder, then, slowly, Dobby said, “Harry Potter would really do this for Dobby and Winky?”

“Of course I would! I don't want you dying just because of things that were out of your control. Dobby, the Malfoys didn't bind you properly, and they were abusive. Wanting out of that is perfectly understandable,” Harry said. Voldemort had once found an ancient text that had details everything house elves could do, and one of them was that when their ownership was transferred from one magical person to another, they would lose their old personalities and gain ones that are perfect for their new master. However, problems would arise when an elf was the property of an entire family instead of only one person or a particular position within the household because a little bit of each person's desires were reflected upon the elf. Dobby was a good example, as Lucius had wanted an elf that would cower away from him and fear him, Draco had wanted him to constantly do punishable things so he would get hurt in more and more horrible ways, and Narcissa had wanted one with an inner sense of dignity and an awe of power due to her Black upbringing.

“And you, Winky,” Harry continued, “from my point of view, you did the best you could in an impossible situation. Such loyalty and dedication should be commended and rewarded, not punished.”

By now, both elves were blushing a faint green in pleasure that a wizard understood their plight. They looked at each other, drew identical breaths, and then turned to Harry again. “We would be honoured to be your elves, Harry Potter,” Dobby said. Winky nodded.

Harry smiled and touched both their heads. A golden glow enveloped the two elves as they accepted his ownership of them. “Well, first things first,” Harry said, “how long does it take the both of you to acclimate to your master's personality?”

“One week for me, Master,” Winky said.

“Four days for me, Master,” Dobby admitted.

Harry nodded in understanding. “Good. Winky, get sober and come to me a week from now. Dobby, come to me in four days. I will have tasks for both of you.”

“Yes, Master,” the elves said, and he dismissed them with a gesture.

The remainder of the day went by quickly, and then quicker than he thought possible, it was morning. Now free of mind compartments, his brain had properly processed everything that had happened to him in his life. He hadn’t slept that night, but rather had meditated for close to ten hours establishing proper Occlumency shields using Voldemort’s memories. The meditation had calmed his mind immensely, and now he knew that he couldn’t have nightmares any more—he’d put a series of commands into place that would immediately sort out and calm down terrifying or violent memories should they appear, and further his mind would do the same thing to any nonsense nightmares that appeared, harmlessly transitioning them to more pleasant dreams.

Already being fully packed, he merely shrunk his trunk, went to the Owlery to tell Hedwig to find him in a week, as he wasn’t sure where he’d be staying but it definitely wasn’t going to be the Dursleys, then headed to breakfast. Ron and Hermione were already seated at their normal spot, so he sauntered over to join them. Hermione was reading a book on magical injuries, and Ron was practically stuffing all food in sight down his gullet, so neither of them noticed his approach until he sat down and began pulling the nearest vat of porridge toward him.

“Harry!” Hermione said, marking her page with a finger. “We thought we’d see you down here sooner, you said you weren’t sleeping well. Is it because of—of… you know, Sirius?”

Harry no longer felt a horrible emotional pain at hearing his late godfather’s name, but it had only been two days since he’d last flinched at it, so he made himself flinch to make it look like nothing had changed. That way he’d barely be bothered by them on the way back to London.

Hermione sighed. “Sorry, Harry. I shouldn’t have said it.”

“Why ‘ere ‘oo ‘ate?” Ron asked with a full mouth.

“Ronald! Manners!” Hermione screeched quietly.

Ron swallowed, then repeated, “Why _were_ you late, mate?”

Harry shrugged. “Packing. Seems I decided to be half Weasley for the day.”

Ron guffawed while Hermione sniffed, and Harry simply shrugged again. “Not much I could do about it except pack quickly and head down. Anyway, it’s nearly time to head down. You got your stuff?”

His two friends agreed, and they leisurely made their way outside and got in a thestral-drawn carriage. He patted the thestral on the flank before getting in, then patted it again once they got out. The train ride back to London was long and boring for Harry, but at least it wasn’t noisy and fraught with everyone asking how he was doing. He could put up with the pitying or worried looks.

Upon seeing the members of the Order disregarding his wish not to have them approach his relatives and instead threatening his relatives, his anger spiked. Once again, there was someone interfering with his life! He could see the Dursleys weren’t taking well to the threats, so when the Order disappeared, he turned to the enraged and embarrassed Dursleys. “Just so you know, I know that you all prefer not to have any contact with my kind and I asked them not to do that.”

Vernon’s colouring went down a shade. “As it should be! All that nonsense! I’ll do what I like under my roof, and no one can stop me!”

“I agree,” said Harry. “However, I won’t be going with you back to your home, now or ever. I intend to stay somewhere else for the summer. If I have my way, I’ll only see you all once more, just before I go back to school, because they’ll be expecting me to come out of that house.”

Petunia nodded sharply. “Get going, then. You should have been raised among your kind anyway, it’s only fair that if they don’t let you, that you make them let you.”

“Let’s go,” Vernon said, and he and his family left.


	2. The Will of Sirius Black

Harry arrived at Gringotts spot on at five o’clock and made his way to a teller. “Hello, I am here regarding a letter I sent a day ago about inconsistencies within my account?”

The goblin’s eyes widened a fraction before he hopped off his chair and motioned Harry to follow. They wandered down a warren of tunnels before finally arriving at a door which looked just like all the other ones they’d passed. The still unnamed goblin scratched once on the door and waited until something in the goblin language was said by whomever was on the other side. “Your new account manager, Warmesh,” the first goblin said.

Warmesh’s office was somewhere between militaristic opulence and utilitarian, somehow being both and neither all at once. The goblin himself looked, to Harry, almost like any other goblin he’d seen previously, other than the fact that he appeared to be wearing a Muggle three-piece pin-stripe suit. Warmesh cleared his throat. “Welcome, Mr Potter. I must admit to being surprised, both by the fact you wrote to us, and by the contents of your letter. It was received by the Chief Banker, Ragnok, who was quick to order an investigation. He found that your previous account manager, Griphook, had been bribed by your illegal magical guardian, Albus Dumbledore, to cast a mail ward on you so you could not receive letters which hadn’t been approved by your guardian. Additionally, he sealed your parents’ Will illegally, allowed Dumbledore to access your trust account after handing him the key, which let him take as many galleons as he wanted, and never sent you a single account statement letter. Griphook was beheaded and fed to a dragon, and I was promoted. I have removed the mail ward, placed all your undelivered mail in this sack,” he gestured to a bulging sack beside the desk, “made you a new key to your vault,” again he gestured, this time to a bronze key on the desk, “and had you emancipated.”

Harry blinked at the influx of information. “How did you emancipate me?”

“You participated in the Triwizard Tournament, which had a line added to its contract which stated that all champions had to be legal adults. You were not when you were entered by outside forces, but a line further up the contract stated that the guardian of a participant had to agree, so when Dumbledore didn’t stop you from competing, and he didn’t withdraw you, he accidentally set the circumstances which allowed for you to be emancipated. Basically, you were in an adults-only contest, your guardian didn’t withdraw you, which could be seen as he approved, which means he indirectly approved of you being an adult, so you became one when I did the paperwork.”

“Thank you,” Harry said. “I had planned on not going back to the people Dumbledore had me raised by this summer, but I didn’t know whether I’d actually be able to go ahead with the plan. So, what next?”

“Next, is your parents’ Will,” Warmesh said. “You may have realised during your time in Wizarding Britain that their society is… stuck in the late 1700s?”

Harry himself hadn’t really had the chance to observe such a thing, but Voldemort had. In fact, Voldemort had gained his followers from the Pureblood sect _because_ he knew this. He had gone to a library near the orphanage the day after he’d first gone to Diagon Alley to research what the religious views, traditions, and customs were during that time, and had made himself act like that. He had said he was the Heir to a European Pureblood family, and since the British wizards had little to no contact with their brethren from the continent, no one ever checked up on it.

“I have noticed that, yes,” Harry said. “Why?”

“Well, the people of that time in the Muggle world had nearly identical opinions to those in magical Britain, Ireland, India, and South Africa now. Australia's and New Zealand's magical societies disregarded this when they became independent and are actually among the most enlightened magical societies in the world. Anyway, men are superior in every way, women are to remain pure until marriage and are the property of their fathers, then are to be domestic servants and the property of their husbands, and so forth. Obviously, this only remains true for anyone a part of an ancient wizarding family, but your father was raised that way, and your mother married into his family. She reportedly hated the way women were seen, but couldn’t change anything because she _was_ a woman. So, as only men can make out a Will, your father’s will is valid even if he was the first to die of the two of them.”

Warmesh held out a scroll of parchment to Harry, who by now was seated in front of the desk. Harry took it.

_I, James Fleamont Potter, Lord and Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, and revoke all previous Wills and codicils._

_ARTICLE I_

_If I am succeeded by my wife, Lily Marie Potter nee Evans, and my son and only child, Harry James Potter, my wife will be given joint custody of my son with his godfather, Sirius Orion Black. I ask that my wife be given sanctuary in his House, and a place in the household. If I am succeeded only by my wife, I ask the same in regards to sanctuary and place in the Black household. If I am succeeded only by my son, his godfather will be given sole custody. If he is unable or unfit to do this, the following houses, persons, or families are to be offered custody: The Ancient and Most Noble House of Longbottom, The Ancient House of Bones, Edward and Andromeda Tonks, Minerva McGonagall, The Orphanage of Magical Children._

_ARTICLE II_

_I leave all my tangible personal property to my son and only child, Harry James Potter. Some of my monetary assets will be divided as follows:_

  1. _To Remus John Lupin, a sum of 100 000 galleons, provided he use some of it to purchase an all new wardrobe of clothes and to get that huge library he’s always wanted._
  2. _To Sirius Orion Black, a sum of 100 000 galleons, provided he use it to set up that joke shop we always talked about, and to care for his Godson._
  3. _To Peter Michael Pettigrew, a sum of 100 000 galleons, provided he help Sirius to run the joke shop._
  4. _To the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, a sum of 10 000 galleons, provided they use it to recruit more Aurors and to update the wards surrounding Azkaban._
  5. _To St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, a sum of 10 000 galleons, provided they use it to open up a new magical malady research centre._
  6. _To my wife, Lily Marie Potter, I set up a trust of 200 000 galleons that only you and our son will be able to access and use._



_ARTICLE III_

_All that remains, including my Lordship of the House of Potter, goes to my son and Heir, Harry James Potter. If he does not survive me, let the House of Potter be annulled, and my monetary and property assets be divided equally among Remus John Lupin, Sirius Orion Black, Peter Michael Pettigrew, the Ancient and Most Noble House of Longbottom, the Ancient House of Bones, Edward and Andromeda Tonks, and St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries._

_I have signed this Will on the date, the 12_ _th_ _of September, 1981._

_James Potter_

_Witnesses:_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

_Lily Marie Potter_

_Account Manager Griphook, Executor of Will_

Most informative, Harry decided. He was positive that before his… change, he would have ranted, raged, and destroyed things like he’d done in Dumbledore’s office, but now, he only felt smug satisfaction. Dumbledore hadn’t wanted him to find this, much less read it, yet he had. The Dursleys and Dumbledore never being mentioned in the Will meant that Dumbledore was in the wrong, and it was his legal right to kill his relatives, for illegal guardianship and abuse of the Heir to an Ancient and Most Noble House, and to kill Dumbledore, for illegal guardianship, subversion of the Will of the Lord of an Ancient and Most Noble House, and whatever else he could find to stick to him. He raised his head from the scroll to look at Warmesh.

“Is all in order?” the goblin asked.

Harry shook his head. “No, but it will be. I assume that as I am emancipated, I am allowed to say whether all of the Will gets carried out, and also to become Lord Potter?”

“Yes,” Warmesh said, pushing a ring box towards Harry. “In there is your Lordship ring. Is there a part of the Will you would not like carried out?”

“Pettigrew gets nothing, and obviously my mother and Sirius don’t get their money because they’re both dead. Other than that, no, the rest can happen because they all have provisos.”

“It shall be done,” Warmesh agreed, then moved on to the next subject once Harry had put the ring onto his right index finger and it had flashed and shrunk to fit. “Next is the Will of Sirius Orion Black, which is due to be read in five days. However, there is a rather… private matter in the Will which he requested you read before the reading so you could prepare for it. I have the extracted article, which will not be read on the day by anyone except yourself and the people it concerns, for you now.”

Harry took the parchment.

_ARTICLE III_

_As a result of Andromeda Tonks, nee Black, being disowned, I was not able to do much except allow her disownment to be negated. However, an ancient part of the House Credo has come into play. Had I avoided Azkaban or been given my due trial and found innocent, I would have been able to prevent this from happening. Unfortunately, I was in Azkaban and had not accepted my Heirship in 1991, thus I was unable to ascend to the Lordship when my grandfather, Arcturus III died, and thus I could not negate the consequences within a year and a day of his Will reading. I am sorry, Andy, Ted, Tonks. The following paragraph is word for word from Arcturus’ Will, as I was instructed to do by a letter from him upon my ascension to Lord._

_I, as the Lord of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, do find that a daughter of this House, formerly known as Andromeda Gaea Black, has sullied herself by eloping with the Muggleborn Edward Andrew Tonks. Further, I find she has borne him a daughter by the name of Nymphadora Andromeda Tonks. As a result of this merging of Mud and Old Magic Blood and said daughter signing the Credo upon her coming of age, any daughters she may have from this foul union shall be slaves of the Lord of the House of Black, and any sons she may have shall have their magic forcefully bound. This is my will, so mote it be._

Well, that _was_ a surprise. He assumed that since he was allowed to read this, he was involved, and since the only other person the Will mentioned was the next Lord Black, this meant he was going to be the Lord of two very powerful Houses, and apparently he was going to have a slave.

Cool.

*

Harry sat in the Will reading room five days later and considered all he’d done in the past five days. As it turned out, once he was Lord Potter, he could get tested for magical influence, as it was illegal to be used on anyone fifteen or older, but guardians had to give their permission for the testing. He apparently had half of his magic locked away under a magical binding, and he had another magical binding preventing him from accessing his Metamorphmagus abilities. There was a reason why he hadn’t had to have a haircut since he was seven, but he hadn’t been able to unconsciously access any other part of that ability.

Then there was his new-found wealth. Even without taking the Potter wealth into account, he was still filthy, stinking rich. Warmesh had allowed him access to the Black accounts because Harry was the next Lord Black, and the only thing keeping him from that role was a Will reading. Although the Blacks had been a Dark, bigoted family before Sirius, they had been extremely financially savvy, and they’d had excellent account managers to further their wealth. Realising what a powerful tool the Daily Prophet could be, the Blacks had provided its seed money all the way back in 1743, and had been gifted with a whopping 60% of the company shares. When the Blacks had all but died out during the first war, their account manager, a goblin by the name of Cragflesh, had hidden their name as several silent partners which all held seemingly low percentages of the company. After the war, the Ministry had quietly bought up all the shares it could, but upon finding themselves with only 40% of the Daily Prophet's shares and unable to track down the rest, they contented themselves with their supposed new superiority over the minds of the helpless sheep which made up Wizarding Britain. This had made the Daily Prophet pander to the Ministry’s demands, thus losing integrity, but now with a new Lord Black on the scene, Cragflesh could once again consolidate the Black shares and bring the Ministry to heel.

Harry thought it was somewhat odd to have two account managers, but knew that if he tried to promote one or the other, there may be clan wars because of the outrage, so when he’d met with Cragflesh the first time, he’d told him that he wanted the two of them to work together to make him as much money as they could. If that meant taking shares in Muggle companies, then so be it. As the Black wealth alone was around 25 million galleons, he couldn’t wait to officially get his hands on that money. The Potter wealth was less than half of that at only 12 million galleons, due to Dumbledore’s embezzlement and Griphook’s betrayal. Warmesh had been able to track down some of the Potter funds to a vault named Order funds, and assumed the rest of the missing 17 million galleons had gone to the same place. Harry had been incensed, but had calmed down quickly enough to realise if he did anything about it, he would be discovered, which was not something he wanted.

As a result of being Lord Potter, he had three properties: a manor in Dover which apparently had a private beach and a picturesque view of the White Cliffs of Dover, a beach-side cottage in Nice, France, and the house in Godric’s Hollow. He hadn’t been allowed to view the Black properties yet, but he would after the Will reading. He'd spent the last five days living in his new Dover manor, going through his accounts and finances, as well as fantasising what he was going to make Tonks do once she was his slave. Needless to say, he was very good at cleaning charms by the time those five days were up. Dobby had appeared on the third day after his arrival at the manor, and Harry had put him to work cleaning the house, fixing up the garden, and cooking. He was now expecting Winky to appear tomorrow, and would put her to cleaning the other houses he'd inherited from the Potter and Black families.

He shifted around in his seat, wishing he hadn’t thought to turn up half an hour early. However, there were only five minutes left before the reading would start, so he wasn’t surprised when people started to trickle in. First came Lady Narcissa Malfoy with her spoilt ferret-brat of a son, both with their noses in the air; the Tonkses were next, and he had to hold back a maniacal grin at the thought of what he’d do to Tonks once she was bound to him. His cock twitched. He was glad he was wearing his Hogwarts robes, since they were so voluminous and charmed to lie straight that no one would be able to tell if he was fully erect or totally flaccid. The Tonkses were quickly followed by a man in lime green Healer robes, presumably a representative from St Mungo’s. Next entered Lupin, who sat next to Tonks and spoke with her in a hushed voice. They were obviously arguing about something, and he wondered for a moment what it was about before pushing it to the side. He’d ask her later. Finally, Dumbledore and the Weasleys arrived, with Hermione tagging along, and Dumbledore saw him and rushed over.

“Harry, my boy, what are you doing away from the Dursleys?” Dumbledore asked.

“Actually, sir, I was only here so I could get some money to buy more quills and parchment for my homework, but when I said who I was to the tellers out front, they just said that they’d have it sorted out for me and in the meantime I had to sit in here. Why am I here, sir?” Harry said in as innocent a manner he could summon up.

Dumbledore’s expression flashed to angry for a moment, then it was gone and the kindly grandfather and Leader of the Light was back. “Well, my boy, it’s Sirius’ Will reading today. Didn’t you get the letter?”

Harry shook his head, and Dumbledore hummed. “The owl must have gotten lost. It does happen from time to time, but it’s still very rare. Happily, you’re here now. If you hadn’t been, I’d have gone straight to the Dursleys and told you what happened.”

“Thank you, sir,” Harry said, inwardly vomiting.

Dumbledore took his seat next to Mrs Weasley, and then Cragflesh entered. “Welcome one and all to the reading of Sirius Orion Black’s Will. According to the ledger, everyone mentioned is here and accounted for. Splendid. I shall now read out each article, unless I was given instructions by the late Lord Black to do otherwise.

_I, Sirius Orion Black, Lord and Head of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black, declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, and revoke all previous Wills and codicils._

_ARTICLE I_

_If I am succeeded by my godson, Harry James Potter, I hereby grant him emancipation._

Immediately, Dumbledore stood and objected. “Account manager, This is not Sirius Black’s right to give to Harry. I am his guardian, and as such I do not see Harry to be ready to take on all the cares and concerns of an adult.”

Cragflesh grinned menacingly. “I see. However, you are mistaken; Harry James Potter was granted emancipation when you allowed him to participate in the Triwizard Tournament last year. Sirius Black was, additionally, granted partial custody of Mr Potter when he came here early this year to make his Will, as Mr Potter’s father’s Will was very precise in stating that Sirius Black be granted this.”

“What?” Harry said. “You… you mean, I could have lived with him instead of the Dursleys?”

“Indeed, Mr Potter,” Cragflesh said, gleefully playing along.

Harry put on a heartbroken face. “He told me he’d figure out a way for that to happen, back in third year, so I wouldn’t be hurt by the Dursleys any more.”

“I protest—”

“Denied,” said Cragflesh. “Now, I shall continue with the Will.”

_ARTICLE II_

_I leave all my tangible personal property to my godson, Harry James Potter. My monetary assets will be divided as follows:_

  1. _To Remus John Lupin, a sum of 300 000 galleons, provided he get some new clothes and whatever books he wants. Siriusly though, you need new clothes, Mooney._
  2. _To the Ancient House of Weasley, a sum of 20 000 galleons, for being a second and true family to my godson when he needed you the most._
  3. _To Fred and George Weasley, a trust account containing 7000 galleons, for that brilliant joke shop idea of yours. With love, from Padfoot._
  4. _To Hermione Jean Granger, a sum of 5000 galleons, provided she use some of it to get books on house elves and how their bonds work. I recommend Claudius’ Compendium of Magical Creatures._
  5. _To St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, a sum of 10 000 galleons, provided they use some of it to properly research a cure for the Longbottoms._
  6. _To the Tonkses, a sum of 10 000 galleons and two vials of a potion which I’m sure you’ll need after this reading._



While the second article was being read, Harry watched everyone’s reactions. Remus was barely holding back tears, Mr and Mrs Weasley were profusely thanking Sirius for his generosity, Fred and George were in shock that they’d been taught by one of their idols and had lived under the roof of another, Hermione had a furrowed brow as though memorising the name of the book Sirius had recommended, the Healer had simply nodded that they would try their best, and the Tonkses looked ecstatic at the money, but confused at the potion. Dumbledore was incensed that neither he, nor the Order, had been granted any money. Harry knew the old goat hadn’t actually gotten an invitation. Ron looked furious he hadn’t gotten anything. The Malfoys were disappointed they hadn’t gotten any money so far, but still looked confident they would get something in the end.

Cragflesh cleared his throat. “I hold here four copies of Article III, which I was instructed to only allow the people it concerns to read.”

The pieces of parchment floated to Harry and the Tonkses. Harry read through it once again, just to activate the self-destruct charm which he’d been informed was on it, then put on a horrified and confused expression when another, larger piece of parchment popped into his hand which contained instructions on how to bond a family slave to him. He saw the three others finish reading and go into shock, and their expressions were genuine. Andromeda and Ted looked heartbroken.

“I shall continue with the fourth and final article,” Cragflesh said.

_ARTICLE IV_

_As the Head of the House of Black, I declare that Bellatrix Lestrange’s marriage to Rodolphus Lestrange is hereby annulled, and she is cast out from the House of Black. All that was once hers is now returned to the House of Black._

_As the Head of the House of Black, I declare that the same happens for Narcissa Malfoy. Her son, Draco, is fully disowned without a chance of ever being readmitted._

_All that remains, including my Lordship of the House of Black, goes to my godson and Heir, Harry James Potter. If he does not survive me, let the House of Black be annulled, and my monetary and property assets be divided equally among Remus John Lupin, the Ancient House of Weasley, Edward and Andromeda Tonks, and St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries._

There was shocked silence for a few seconds, then there was pandemonium from the Malfoys and Dumbledore. All three were shouting about the impossibility of this happenstance, how there had obviously been some sort of mistake. Harry enjoyed the chaos before he was timidly approached by Tonks and her parents. “Er… Hi,” he started, putting up the image of confused young man.

“Hi, Harry,” Tonks said. Her hair was a shock of white.

“Mr Potter,” Ted Tonks acknowledged, and Andromeda nudged him slightly.

She curtseyed slightly and bowed her head in submission. “My Lord,” she said, “It is an honour to be a part of House Black again.”

Harry nodded his head jerkily as though he didn’t really know what he was meant to do. “It is an honour to receive you and yours into the House again,” he said in a formal matter, then dropped the tone. “I… I just wish it were under better circumstances.”

“As do we, Lord Potter-Black,” Ted Tonks said.

Tonks looked gobsmacked. “You can’t actually be thinking of going through with this, dad!”

“We have no choice, Dora, dear,” Ted said. “Your mother signed that horrid Credo two months before she met me, and she thought that disowning herself from House Black would prevent this from happening. It binds your mother to her agreement, and if she doesn’t comply, she will die. Since I’m bound to her through a magical marriage bond, I’ll die if she dies. Are you willing to watch us die slow, horrible deaths just so you can remain free?”

Tonks sniffed as tears began to roll down her face. “N-no, daddy. I just… slavery?”

Andromeda laid a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve grown up mostly in the Muggle world with us, and you’ve been sheltered from the traditions and customs I grew up with. Basically, Wizarding Britain is still stuck in the late 1700s, where we signed the Statute of Secrecy. Women are their father’s or husband’s property, we cannot own anything, and most are little better than domestic slaves who pop out children and submit to their husbands whenever he feels like it. Slavery also exists, and although it was winding down and going out of fashion for the Muggles, once the Statute was signed, the Purebloods ratcheted it up again. It’s the dirty little secret of this country, yet everyone who’s half-blood and up knows about it.”

Tonks looked like she was about to hyperventilate, so Harry butted in gently. “Tonks, remember, I grew up in the Muggle world. This is as new to me as it is to you! At least you know me, you know how I’ll treat you.”

Tonks sniffled and nodded as she calmed down, and Harry noted that the chaos outside of himself and the Tonkses was calming down. He had to act fast. “Look, we’ll talk about this later, okay? Let’s get out of here for now.”

The four made their way to the exit, only to be stopped by Cragflesh. “Lord Potter-Black, here is a portfolio of all Black finances, properties, and shares. Mr and Mrs Tonks, here is your money and the two potions. The late Lord Black insisted you take the potions before exiting.”

Harry took his portfolio and watched in curiosity as the two parents did as asked. Their eyes clouded over, and Cragflesh motioned for Harry to leave with Tonks. Harry did so, taking a confused Tonks by the arm and leading her towards a Floo. Harry had heard of the potion the Tonkses had taken, but had never seen its effects in person. It was a modified Forgetfulness Potion, keyed to one person. It would make them forget said person in the most general sense; Cragflesh had said that Sirius had engineered the potion so that Andromeda and Ted would still remember they once had a daughter, but they would be totally uninterested in finding out what happened to her, and they would also be uninterested in ever having a child again, as they remembered the Will mentioning what would happen if they did. Sirius had wanted them to forget their heartbreak, and the only way he’d discovered to do that was to erase the existence of their daughter from their minds.

“Potter Dover manor,” Harry intoned as he threw Floo powder into the fireplace, then stepped in with Tonks. He closed his eyes and waited for the Floo to take him where he’d spent the last five days.


	3. Breaking in a Slave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so the entire chapter is either rape or torture, with the tiniest little bit of plot thrown in there, so I won't put any warnings within the chapter itself. Instead, I'll do a tl;dr thing at the end of chapter notes for anyone who's squeamish or gets triggered by these things but is still reading this for some reason. Enjoy the darkness.

Harry let go of Tonks as soon as they were clear of the Floo, and she stumbled to her knees. He allowed his mask to fall away and sighed in relief. “Now then, it’s much better to see a witch in her rightful place!”

Tonks looked up at him from where she knelt, and she paled at his hungry expression. She opened her mouth to say something, but Harry waved his hand and she went limp. “Nymphadora Andromeda Tonks, I hereby bind you as a slave to myself, Lord Harry James Potter-Black. Let no one ever release your bindings by anything except death!”

He summoned a knife from the kitchen and grabbed a fistful of her hair. In her paralysed state, she could do no more than grunt and tear up in pain. “I remove this hair to signify the end of my slave’s freedom and the start of her new life.”

Chunk by chunk, he cut off all her hair, knowing he could order her to grow it back once the ritual was done. Once she only had small, misshapen tufts of hair left on her scalp, he dropped the knife and disrobed, freeing his hard cock. He looked down at her and tugged on himself a few times, then rolled her over so she lay on her back. He ripped open her blouse, then got the knife and sliced open her bra, freeing her somewhat small breasts. Next, he used the knife to rip her skirt enough so he could rip the rest of it off by hand, then tore her panties off.

Tonks was making grunts which he assumed meant, “No, no, no!”

He disregarded her pathetic attempts to get him to stop, and instead groped her breasts harshly, then moved onto tweaking and fiddling with her nipples until they were hard little pebbles, then sucked one into his mouth before biting down, hard. The faint taste of copper let him know he’d broken the skin, so he let go and saw the tooth marks surrounding her areola were tiny wells of blood. As he watched, the blood overflowed and a droplet tracked down into the crevasse under her breast, which he was happy to discover turned him on immensely as his cock was now almost painfully hard.

He nudged her legs open and surveyed his property. She was bare except for a small landing strip, and her inner lips were slightly moist, reacting to the nipple play stimuli. “Look at that, Nymphadora, it seems you like this,” he said, and ran his finger over her clit. She gasped and convulsed slightly at the feeling, then made another grunt of denial. “Oh, but you do! You’re already so wet for me.”

He stuck a finger inside her and stroked her inner muscles, delighting in her reactions. A tear had started to roll down her cheek. Another finger was added, and he scissored them within her. His fingers were completely soaked now, and with a sudden, unexplainable urge, he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them. It was a sweet, yet oddly tangy taste, with a small hint of sharp bitterness, and he found he liked it. He lowered himself down so he could lap up the sticky liquid from the source, and nearly moaned at the overwhelming flavour.

He withdrew his tongue regretfully, but knew he had years and years to explore her folds with his tongue, so he instead positioned his cock at her slit and slowly pushed in, overcome by the slick, warm walls hugging him. He met a slight resistance and chuckled. “Oh, little Nymph, you’re a virgin! How delightful!”

He drew back slightly before slamming in and thrusting away in wild abandon. Her grunt this time was more of a muted scream, and for several minutes, all that could be heard was the slapping of skin on skin and the violent, animalistic grunts from Harry alongside the sobbing grunts from Tonks. Harry stiffened and came with another grunt, and when he became aware of his surroundings again, he calmly said, “With the taking of this slave, let her be forever bound to Lord Black until such time as death takes her.”

He pulled his soft cock out of her, and summoned a few things which he’d prepared beforehand. As he’d known Tonks would be his slave, he’d gone into the storage compartment of his trunk and pulled out a pet collar, a leash, food and water bowls, and a human-sized cage which had once had the skeleton of a large dog in it. He’d then made the word Nymph appear on the collar and the bowls.

The collar, leash, bowls, and cage soared through the air towards him, and he lowered each of them to the ground carefully. He opened the cage and levitated the still limp but sobbing Tonks inside, set the bowls within and poured water into one of them with Aguamenti, and then fastened the collar around her neck. “Now, you are to respond to ‘Nymph’,” he told the shaking woman.

He put the leash onto the collar and magically fastened it to the top of the cage, which was too high for either of them to reach. As she was still limp, she looked like a marionette as the collar cut off her airway because the leash was too short to reach the bottom of the cage. He watched in satisfaction as her eyes bulged and she choked as her breathing got cut off entirely, then just before she could fall unconscious, he lifted the spell which had made her limp. Immediately, she sat up so she was no longer hanging by the leash and started gasping, sobbing, and retching.

“You are not to use your Metamorphmagus abilities for anything unless I say so, which means you’ll need to keep your new haircut until I feel like remaking you. You also may not speak, urinate, or defecate without permission. As it’s the early evening and you definitely haven’t earned the right to eat anything, I’ll just leave you here to contemplate things as I eat a lovely dinner my house elf cooked.”

*

The next morning, Harry made his way downstairs to the cage. According to Dobby, Nymph had cried all evening and into the night, finally falling into an exhausted sleep around two in the morning. He quietly opened the cage door and stepped inside, then backhanded her, waking her. “How dare you cry for such a long time! My elf didn't get to sleep until two because of your pathetic snivelling!”

He kicked her in the ribs, and she cried out in pain. “You are worthless, you are _ nothing! _ ” He kicked her again, this time in the thigh because she'd curled up to try to protect herself from his onslaught. “Well? What have you got to say for yourself?”

“Please, Harry, whatever they've done to you to make you act like this—”

Harry interrupted with a punch to her head. “ _ You _ do not have the privilege, nor even the right to address me by my name. Unless we are in the presence of people who don't know that you're my slave, you will only address me as “Master”, and I expect you to obey my every order. And for your information, no one  _ made _ me act like this. The so-called light side ignored what the Dursleys did to me, even made sure I stayed in that disgusting house like Mr High-and-Mighty Headmaster demanded, but the light didn't make me like this; Voldemort killed my parents and left a piece of himself inside me that was trying to possess me practically my whole life, but he didn't make me like this either. If anything, the most blame goes to Dumbledore for making me endure the torture that was Occlumency lessons from Snape, which really turned out to be mind-raping sessions, and then Dumbledore also never allowed me to get proper medical treatment for my abuse or the mind-rape, because either he hired Pomfrey knowing that she wouldn't care about an abused child, or he's spelled or potioned her to always ignore the signs that were right under her nose and ignore my pleas for help.”

Nymph was shocked at his little speech, and had even uncurled herself during it, so he promptly kicked her in the stomach. She let out a whoosh of air and another cry of pain, both of which Harry simply ignored as he lowered the elastic rim of his sleep pants so his morning wood showed. “Do you want me to hit you again?” he threatened when she went to say something. She shook her head hastily and looked at his hard cock in disgust and horror. He smirked. “How about you take care of this for me then? I warn you now that I expect you to swallow, and if you spill so much as a single drop, or you bite me, I will torture you until you can't control your arms or legs.”

Nymph whimpered helplessly, but seeing she had no choice, she manoeuvred herself so her leash wouldn't choke her when she went down on him, then hesitated for a split second before opening her mouth and taking him in. However, before she could start sucking, Harry held her head in place and started pissing into her mouth. Her eyes widened and she desperately tried to escape from his grip, but he was too strong. Just before his piss overflowed from her mouth, he said to her, “remember, swallow it all or get tortured.”

With the most disgusted scrunched-up face she could manage while a big, hard cock was in her mouth, she closed her eyes and swallowed his piss down again and again until he was done. He removed himself from her mouth and observed her while she gagged, until she vomited the piss and whatever her last meal had been out on the floor in front of him. He grinned a nasty smile, bent down at the waist, and lifted her chin with a finger. “That was more than a drop, Nymph.”

She was instantly terrified, and scrambled to the back of her cage, shaking her head in denial. “No, no, no, please, M-Master, please!” she stammered.

Harry wiggled his finger at her in disapproval. “Ah, ah, ah! I said you would get punished if you did, and you  _ did _ , so since you know I always keep my word, you know I'm going to have to do this.” He untied the leash handle from the cage and tugged at it. “Come on, follow me. On hands and knees.”

Too scared to try to disobey him, she did as she was told and exited the cage. Harry said, “Dobby, clean up this mess.”

Dobby appeared, said, “Yes, Master,” and clicked his fingers to clean up the urine-vomit, then disappeared again. The elf never spared a glance for Nymph, which meant he was truly fully acclimated to his new Master. Harry was glad.

He led his slave into the basement, then made her stand up. Some chains hung from the ceiling and others snaked across the ground they were fastened to, there was a modified St Andrew's cross which could become horizontal along one wall, and a wooden horse stood next to a pillory on the opposite wall. Half of the wall opposite the stairs was filled with torture devices, and the other half had what he considered kinky tools like magical vibrators, gags, and the like.

The second his slave had seen the room in all its glory, her whimpering kicked up another notch, and Harry heard her saying, “No, no, no, no…”

Once she had stood up, he fastened some shackles to her wrists, and the chains these shackles hung from were attached to the ceiling just far enough apart from each other that Nymph had to stand on her tiptoes if she wanted her arms to remain in their sockets. Her breath was coming in quick, shallow pants, and it only increased when she caught sight of Harry's cruel smile. “Now then, little Nymph, since this is your first punishment, I won't require you to count how many times I hit you, then again, I don't think I feel like punishing you with whips or canes today. You're not worth my effort.”

He leisurely got his wand from its holster and pointed it at her. “Crucio,” he intoned, and she started screaming. He knew from personal experience that the torture curse felt like a thousand hot needles stabbing every inch of the body, but from Voldemort's memories he knew that all Auror recruits had to experience the curse for a full ten seconds to understand what it did to the body and why it was illegal to cast on a human being. He kept it on her for five minutes, enjoying her unearthly screams, then stopped, not wanting to fry her brain completely.

Her whole body shivered in tremors, and her screams stopped, now giving way to whimpering. “What did you do wrong, slave?” Harry asked.

“I-I puked out your piss,” she said in a hoarse voice.

Harry backhanded her, causing her to lose her balance, scream in pain as her shoulders were nearly dislocated, and flail around to try to regain it. “What did you do wrong?”

Her currently grey eyes clouded over in confusion. “I… spilled more than a drop?”

Harry used a weak cutting curse on her thigh, splitting the skin and allowing some blood to flow down her leg. She screamed again, and then he said, “I'm disappointed in you, Nymph. Only a few minutes ago I told you what I expected of you, and you can't even remember a simple instruction.  _ You _ don't matter; you’re worthless! However, I am your Master, and you are my slave. As I am a good Master, I will help you to learn. What do slaves do when their Master orders them to do something?”

Nymph sniffled. “Th-they do it?”

“Very good,” Harry said. He healed the gash in her leg as a reward. “You will stay down here and think about what that means in regards to what you did wrong. I will return when I feel like it.”

He left her there, fully intending to wait a couple of days before returning. To bide his time, he finally sat down to look through the Black property portfolio. There were a fair few more than the measly three from the Potter portfolio, but as he looked through them, only one or two of them looked nicer than the Potter ones, excluding the cottage in Godric's Hollow, of course. Actually, he was thinking about getting that one bulldozed and rented out in Muggle real estate, just to stick it to the Ministry, who for some reason believed they owned it and thus has the right to make it a war monument, without paying a single knut to the Potter Estate.

In total, there were twelve Black properties. Three were manors in Britain, although apparently they were occupied at the moment and the people in each of them hadn't paid rent for fourteen years. A small note said that they were occupied by the Malfoy, Parkinson, and Nott families, respectively. He'd have to think on what he should do about this, but that could come later.

The fourth property was a small townhouse in London, and the picture that accompanied it made him realise that it was the house at Grimmauld Place. He'd have to look through—

Oh.

One of Voldemort's memories surfaced as his mind went through all the Dark objects he'd seen in that house. In a display case in the drawing room, there lay a small, silver and green locket with a powerful Dark aura. They had all tried to open the blasted thing, and all had failed. Now he knew why, and he was rather glad they hadn't managed it. Well, only one thing to do if he wanted to destroy Voldemort. “Kreacher!” he barked.

The filthy elf appeared with a faint pop, ranting and raving about how he didn't want to serve the traitorous Harry Potter. “Stop that racket!” Harry demanded, and Kreacher could only obey. “Now, do you know of a small locket that resides in Grimmauld Place that will not open, no matter how hard you try?”

“Kreacher knows of no such locket in Grimmauld Place,” the elf replied, sullen.

Spotting where the elf had specified his statement, Harry amended, “What about a locket that you saw when Voldemort made you go to a cave and drink a torture potion? A locket that he placed in the basin the potion had been in?”

Kreacher twitched and tugged desperately on his left ear. “Kreacher knows of that locket, but he wonders how Harry Potter knows of the cave and the potion.”

“That is none of your concern. Where is it, if it is not in Grimmauld Place?”

“Kreacher does not know, but he knows the fat, stinky, greedy man who took many of Mistress’ other treasures, also took the locket.”

Harry blinked. “Did you ever hear this man get called Mundungus, or Dung?”

“Yes!” Kreacher said, nodding his head fervently.

“Find him and bring him back here, tied up so he can't escape. I suspect he will be in Knockturn Alley somewhere. I expect you to be back here with him tomorrow evening at the latest. You may not talk to anyone unless it is absolutely necessary for this task or for your survival.”

Kreacher bowed reluctantly. “Yes, Master.”

The elf popped away, and Harry heaved a sigh of relief at being away from such a disgusting creature. He returned to perusing the remaining properties.

He had a mansion in the outer Hebrides, and a small cottage, situated on an enormous block of land, in southern Ireland. Two properties were in the United States; one a penthouse flat in New York City overlooking Times Square, and the other a small family home in Florida, within spitting distance of the theme parks. He owned a tequila distillery in Mexico which had a five bedroom cottage under heavy notice-me-not and muggle-repelling wards; he had a villa in the Italian countryside which had an enormous vineyard and winery attached that, according to another note in the ledger, supplied some of the most expensive wine in the world.

Finally, he owned a mansion in New Zealand on the southern island, and a whole tropical island which was apparently a floating island and could move at the ward controller's will. Fascinating.

Out of all of the properties he now owned, he most wanted to visit the Potter one in France, the Black one in Italy, and the floating island. He knew he would have time during what he still had left of summer, which was just under three months, so he mentally mapped out his ideas for the visits. He was starting to come up with a few small plans for what to do about the remaining properties, so they wouldn't just be money sinkholes; obviously his first step was to evict the Malfoy, Nott, and Parkinson families. The thought of Malfoy's face when he realised he was homeless allowed him to fall asleep that night with a satisfied smile on his face.

*

As expected, Kreacher showed up the next afternoon with the squirming and trussed up form of Mundungus Fletcher. “Good job, Kreacher. Stay where you are until I tell you otherwise.”

He turned to Dung, but didn't bother asking him any questions—instead he ripped through his mind to look for the answer. The thief had very basic Occlumency skills, yes, but they were no match for a Master Legilimens. When he found what he was looking for, he cursed his bipolar luck. Last week, Dolores Umbridge had happened upon Dung selling his stolen wares and had taken the locket as a bribe to refrain from reporting him for not having the proper paperwork. He exited the snivelling man's mind and paced back and forth, mentally raving about the circumstances, until he saw Kreacher.

“Kreacher, you are to kidnap Dolores Umbridge, making sure that she has the locket on her somewhere, and bring her back here,” Harry said. “Same rules as your last mission, but this time she can be found in the Ministry, probably near the Minister's office. Make sure no one notices when you bring her to me.”

It wasn't even an hour later when Kreacher returned, this time with the Toad in ropes. Fletcher was still crying after the brutal mind-rape Harry had carried out, so Harry kicked him for good measure. “Give me the locket, Kreacher,” Harry said, and Kreacher did so. Then, without further adieu, he cast the killing curse at both of the bound people at his feet, then banished the ropes surrounding them. “Kreacher, you are to carry them both to Knockturn Alley somewhere and position them as though they are having sex. Then, I want you to vanish their clothes, and come back to me. I want no one to see you do this task.”

Kreacher, shocked at how casually Harry had killed two people, quickly did as ordered and was back within ten minutes. “Kreacher did as Master ordered,” the elf said, finally accepting that Harry was Dark enough to be Lord Black, and thus his Master.

“Good. For your final task, you are to return to Grimmauld Place, grab a knife from the kitchen, go to your old Mistress’ portrait, destroy the portrait without damaging the rest of the house or the wall it hangs on, and then stab yourself with the knife repeatedly until you die. You will not tell, mime, or show in any other way, anything you have done or will do today, to anyone. If anyone is in the house, you will rant and rave about refusing to be my elf, that you would rather die than belong to me.”

Kreacher's skin was now a very white colour, but as he had accepted Harry as his new Master, he was now bound to carry out his Master's orders. He disappeared with a pop, and Harry simply turned and walked out of the room, smiling at the locket he now held in his hand. After all, he already had two elves, both of whom had acclimated to his personality, and Kreacher was too old to go through that again, and he'd already proven himself untrustworthy. Simply put, he was an annoyance and a hassle, and couldn't change, so Harry felt he was justified in ending the miserable elf's life after helping him to complete the final order his beloved Master Regulus had given him.

The rest of the day was relatively boring, being taken up by stabbing the locket with one of the Basilisk fangs he'd taken from the butchered creature, and brewing the healing potions Nymph would need, but come sunrise the next day, he went down to the basement and surveyed the half-dead thing that was hanging from the ceiling. Him opening the basement door had woken her up from her tortured stupor, and now she was regarding him with hopeless, pained eyes. She didn't make a sound. “What did you do wrong, slave?” Harry asked softly.

“I-I… dis-sobeyed my Master,” she said in a broken voice.

Harry nodded and smiled brightly. “Good girl! Now, why is that a punishable offense?”

“I am your s-slave, Master. Slaves obey their Masters; I didn't, so I was punished,” she finished, and Harry heard the fear in her voice, but he also heard how much care she took to say exactly the right thing without allowing any of her pain to escape her lips. Evidently, she was still hanging onto what little pride she had left, so she was not quite broken, yet, but she was well on her way, and a few days of him using her body as he saw fit would see her break completely.

He magically released her from the shackles that held her up, letting her drop to the floor without a care. “Kneel,” he said, and he watched impassively as she used the last of her strength to do as ordered. He freed his morning wood from his sleep pants and held it in one hand. Nymph shuddered, but obediently took it in her mouth and swallowed all of his piss. She gagged once, but then regained control of herself and sat back on her knees as tears coursed down her face in humiliation.

He tucked himself back in and took the leash that was still attached to her collar. He led her back up the stairs and into the dining room, where he'd lined up a few vials of potions on the table. “Open wide,” he said cheerfully, and when she did as told, only hesitating for a fraction of a second, he made her swallow an anti-cruciatus potion, a pepper-up, and a fertility potion.

“Now then,” Harry said, clapping his hands together once, evoking a flinch from Nymph. “Grow your hair until it's down to your lower back and make it perfectly wavy and black.”

The woman did as told. “Make your eyes a hazel colour, but more green than brown. Good. Increase your breast size until they're a size E, make your areolae darker and larger, your nipples bigger and constantly stiff, your body shape into an hourglass one… no, decrease your waist more than that. Better. No hair on your body besides what's on your head at all, tighten your pussy, and keep it that tight, make your ass bigger, perfect and firm, that's it. Skinnier thighs, make yourself shorter than me, delete your gag reflex and separate your oesophagus from your windpipe, making your windpipe only connect your lungs to your nostrils and your oesophagus only connect your stomach to your mouth so I can fuck your throat and you can still breathe, and finally, your second toe must be shorter than your big toe on both feet.”

Before him knelt a perfected version of the old Tonks, one so very close to being broken so she could be re-made as Nymph, his perfect little fuckdoll.

Then, happy with the changes, he picked up the dog bowl, with her new name on it, from the table, and set it down before her. It was full to the brim with dog food. He patted her on the head, bent down and slapped her ass, and sat down at the table. Dobby popped into the room and served him breakfast, and he dug into his eggs, bacon, and sausages.

Nymph's stomach growled at the sight of the delicious food, as she hadn't had anything to eat in four days, but she knew that she would get punished if she asked for any of it. Her Master had already given her food, and she was expected to eat every bite. Begging whatever higher power might exist to save her from this nightmare, she lowered her head and ate like she knew he expected her to: without hands, like a dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tl;dr: Harry reveals his true colours as soon as they're through the Floo. He binds Tonks as his slave, renaming her Nymph, molests her, rapes her, and imprisons her in a cage in his living room, then has dinner, not allowing her any. The next day, he beats her for crying for the whole night and not letting Dobby sleep because of it. He forces her to take his morning wood in his mouth, but then just pisses in her mouth for fun. He punishes her for spilling his piss when she vomits from that, by suspending her by her wrists from the ceiling of his basement and leaving her without food or water for 2 days. During that time, Harry hunts down the locket through Kreacher, who then kidnaps Dung and The Toad for him. He kills them, gets Kreacher to put them in Knockturn, naked, like they were having sex but died during the act, then orders Kreacher to kill himself. Nymph has learned from her punishment and eats a meal of dog food while Harry enjoys breakfast.


	4. The French Experience

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabrielle's turn, and Harry has to return from his holiday.

It only took a week before Harry pronounced Nymph to be fully broken in. A few days after her punishment, Harry had pretended to come out of a trance, as though he'd been under a spell because of the bonding or something. He had acted so torn up and apologetic that she had believed him, and he'd ushered her out of the cage and towards the floo. He'd even gone so far as to put the floo powder into the fireplace before he'd started laughing. She had thought he'd gone into hysterics, but when he had punched her in the head, she had understood it had been a farce.

Harry had raped and tortured her for hours after that, belittling her constantly for actually believing that her nightmare could ever end. There, after the sixteenth hour of torture, he saw her break: her eyes went glassy and she stopped responding to his taunts, now only flinching or moaning when he thrust into her again. It had taken two more days for her to heal from his twisted affections, and the entire time he'd treated her somewhat gently, only teaching her what her true position was through verbal abuse. Even then, the verbal abuse was said in a soft, straightforward tone, and he had seen her new truth start to sink in.

When, after two days of relative care, she had asked him why he was treating her so well, he had played dumb. Then the miracle words had come from her mouth: "I'm a cunt, Master. Cunts are made to be abused. You told me that cunts don't deserve mercy, respect, pity, or love, and I understand that now. I need to suffer, because it makes me remember what I am, and what I was born for."

Harry had smiled at her, said, "Very well," and started treating her normally again. Not as much torture as he would have liked, but he figured that in time, he would have more than enough slaves to practice his torture methods on.

Now, two weeks later, Harry was relaxing on a deck chair outside his house in Nice, France, when he noticed a silvery blonde flash from the magic-permitted beach before him. He turned his head to look at it and found himself watching a young girl of about nine or ten years of age flouncing about on the magical beach with her dog, her long hair streaming behind her as she ran. She was a sexy little thing, obviously just a step or two before puberty, and she didn't have a care in the world about creepy men having an ogle at her perfect ass. He surveyed the beachfront and saw a couple who were clearly her parents, if the woman's identical silver-blonde hair was anything to go by.

An unusual magical aura was emanating from the woman, and when she turned her head more so she could watch her young daughter better, he realised that the woman was a Veela, and more to the point, he'd seen her before. She looked startlingly similar to Fleur Delacour, and now that he knew what to look for, the man with her was definitely Fleur's father, whom he'd seen once just before the Triwizard Tournament's third task. That meant the little girl down by the beach was actually Gabrielle Delacour.

He wanted her. Luckily, he'd saved her life down in the Black Lake, as Veelas couldn't survive for very long under the water; it was completely contrary to their preferred elements of air and fire. It was actually a miracle she'd survived as long as she had, but he supposed that Dumbledore's stasis charm had helped to prevent her death somewhat.

Voldemort had never really been interested in gaining Veela as his allies, as they were considered very much a Light creature, but his thirst for knowledge made him learn all he could about them. He'd captured one when she'd been in Britain for a holiday, and tortured and mind-raped her until he knew all he could. After all, with them being so Light, it was possible they would join that side and thus become his enemies, so he wanted to know all about their strengths and weaknesses.

When they were forcibly bound to someone they owed a life debt to, their Veela and human psyches would tear each other apart. The Veela knew it belonged to the person, and it craved all touch it was given by them, even if it was incredibly painful. The human, however, knew it was still a person, and that it shouldn't belong to anyone, so it fought back against its own creature side. As time went on, their infighting became increasingly violent until one, almost always the Veela, triumphed over the other. However, as neither could survive without the other, the victor would mentally fade and die until the only thing that remained was an empty shell of a body, perfect for breeding. As long as the body was kept fed, healthy, and clean, it would stay alive for however long it would have lived if it had been inhabited by the human and Veela souls. Finally, as Veela were fertile from the age of 6, even though they had spread the myth that they were only fertile once they reached the age of majority at 17, they could have far more babies than any other humanoid creature, especially since they only had a gestation period of four months. As they could only have daughters, and their genetic magic prevented any consequences of incest, he was looking forward to fucking his soon-to-be new slave Veela as much as he wanted, as well as all of his future Veela daughters.

He shoved Nymph off his cock, where she was dutifully being a cock warmer, cast a cold water charm on himself so his boner went down, and put on a pair of boardshorts provided by Dobby. “Stay here, Nymph,” he said as he headed down to the Delacour parents.

Just before he reached them, he cast the confundus charm on them. With every new sentence he spoke, he cast another confundus charm. “You will go home immediately, pack up everything of yours, and move to Australia. You will send all of Gabrielle's belongings through the floo to the Potter Nice cottage, and write Fleur a letter saying the three of you are going into hiding in Australia, but you will leave Gabrielle behind when you leave this beach. You will take the dog with you when you leave for Australia. You will believe that you sent her to live with her sister in Britain, and that it was the best choice. You will never ask Fleur about Gabrielle, and if Fleur asks about her, you will say something similar to that she is enjoying her time there but is too busy playing with her new friends to write. You will not tell Fleur the address you will move to, and when you move back to your home in seven years, you will say Gabrielle found her mate when you went on holiday to New Zealand and that she doesn't ever want to come back to the cold place that is France and Britain.”

The two parents blinked a few times when he was finished, then called over Gabrielle. She looked rather confused when she saw the strange young man standing with her parents, but her expression became one of joy when she recognised him as Harry Potter, the boy who had saved her from the lake. She ran to him and hugged him as tightly as her tiny form could, gabbling away in French as she did so.

“I see you remember Harry,” Mrs Delacour said in amusement. She only had the faintest French accent.

“Oui maman,” Gabrielle said.

“He is taking you to your seester, Gabrielle, you weel be living in Britain and we have decided you are going to Hogwarts next year,” Mr Delacour said. His accent was only slightly more pronounced than his wife's, and far better than Fleur's had been when he'd last met her.

Gabrielle froze in shock before letting him go and facing her parents. “Why must I go to ’ogwarts, papa? Eet was zo cold when I went zere, I don't want to go!” she exclaimed.

“Gabrielle, we are your parents, and you weel do as we say,” her father said sternly.

“We only want what is best for you, mon ange,” her mother softly insisted. “Your sister misses you very much, and Hogwarts is better and safer than Beauxbatons.”

After a few more minutes of arguing, during which Gabrielle got more and more upset, she gave up. Her eyes were filled with tears as she launched herself at her parents, hugging them tightly as they returned the embrace. “I weel miss you, maman, papa!” she said, crying. She looked so sexy when she cried.

She hung onto Harry's hand desperately as the two parents called the dog, which was apparently named André, over, and then disapparated. He gently coaxed her to come with him back to his cottage, and once they crossed the wards, she was visibly horrified at the sight of a naked Nymph, on her knees, appearing on the deck which had looked empty before. She shrank into his side, but he grasped her wrists and held her away from him. “Nymph, hold her down on the floor.”

Nymph hesitated but did as told, and he watched with growing arousal as Gabrielle struggled ineffectually against his slave as she manoeuvred her to the ground. All that it took to hold the prepubescent girl to the ground was one of Nymph's hands holding both her wrists to the ground, and her other hand on the girl's sternum. Her legs were still kicking out, but that was easily solved with Harry taking his board shorts off and kneeling between her legs. He cast a silencing charm on her because he couldn't _stand_ the French language, and with her begging now no longer audible, he let out a sigh of contentment.

“As the saviour of this Veela, I, Harry James Potter, do hereby call upon the life debt she owes me to bind her as my slave. So mote it be!” Harry said. A silver light lit up all over Gabrielle's body, and a silver collar appeared on her as she struggled more frantically. “I now take away your previous name. Henceforth, your name shall be, ‘Cow’.”

The word Cow appeared in black writing on the silver collar. He smiled and pushed her bikini bottom to the side before shoving his cock into her tiny, perfect pussy, moaning in pleasure as her hymen broke and he slid home. Cow's face was red in pain as she screamed silently, and he laughed as he slapped her face before starting to thrust in a hard, quick rhythm. Because his cock was so big compared to her tiny pussy, she was stimulated so much by his thrusts that she had an orgasm only two minutes into her rape. The rhythmic convulsions of her walls made her passage impossibly tighter, and he followed her into his own orgasm. He pulled out of her and smiled when she silently cried out from his sudden absence.

He stroked her belly. “I can't wait for you to swell with my daughter, my little breeding cow.”

Defeated, Cow lay on the deck, tears streaming down her beautiful face. He was going to get as many daughters out of her as he could, then sell half of them off as brides to wealthy Purebloods, and keep the other half to himself. While full Veela, half-Veela, and quarter-Veela only gave birth to daughters due to their inner creature's nature, women who were an eighth Veela could give birth to either sex. The benefit of selling his Veela daughters was that they, as well as their children and grandchildren, were three times more fertile and magically powerful than the average Pureblood, so he could charge a _lot_ of money for them because the Purebloods who bought them were essentially ensuring that their bloodlines remained strong and magical for a further three generations.

Harry left Nymph and Cow behind, the former still holding the latter down because her Master had not said otherwise, and went to his bedroom. He had taken his trunk along when he and Nymph had left Britain behind a week ago, mostly because even after three weeks of being completely free and having a home, he still wasn't quite used to the idea that he could leave everything he owned at one property while he holidayed at another. He rummaged around until he found what he was looking for: a gag in the shape of a huge cock, and a cheap vibrator. He'd bought both from a sex toy store in London, since it seemed that sex toy shops didn't even exist in Knockturn Alley, what with the British magicals being super repressed. No wonder the Death Eaters had so many members; no human being could survive with their sanity intact in such a stifling society, and with humans being the most violent species on the planet, it was only natural that many of them resorted to terrorism and violence. After all, humans and human society had evolved between the Victorian era and now, even if it was only mentally and educationally.

Well, who was he to point out that they were in the wrong when he was going to profit so much from their repression? He had huge plans for magical Britain and Europe! Magical Malls would be commonplace in ten years, allowing numerous small businesses to flourish into larger ones, and he would fund research to bring magical technology and medicine up to the Muggle level. Plus some much-needed agriculture development. Magical Britain would become a powerhouse, all thanks to him!

He went out onto the patio again and was pleased that Cow was still being held down by Nymph. “Open up, Cow,” Harry said. She did not do as told, so he slapped her. “Open up,” he repeated.

Hesitantly, she opened her mouth, and Harry stuffed the gag down her throat, closing the straps at the back, and on top, of her head to keep it in place. Her abdominal muscles were cramping now because her gag reflex was being triggered by the device. The beauty in the gag though, was that it didn't let sound or liquid out of the small hole in the middle, but since said hole went all the way to the tip of the silicone cock, Cow would be able to breathe, drink water, and eat liquidised food through it, even as her gag reflex slowly disappeared. He'd put a no-vomit spell on the gag, so even if her stomach cramped constantly, she couldn't spew at all. Plus, it taught her to swallow around a cock to prevent herself from drowning in her own spit. If it got too close, the anti-drowning charm he'd put on it as well would stop that cold.

Once the gag was correctly in place, he put the vibe on her clit, but over her cum-drenched bikini bottom, and turned it on. He'd enchanted it to stay in place on a person, so no matter how she writhed or otherwise moved, she wouldn't get peace until he turned it off. He wanted to see if the constant stimulation would speed up or slow down the process of her Veela and human sides battling it out. He'd see in a week, since that's usually when you could tell if it was happening or not. He'd heard that sometimes it could take up to two months for one psyche to emerge victorious. He would have to remember to turn it off once every day so she could eat and drink something. No need to be too kind or cruel to her, after all.

He'd had a week in the house in Nice now, and he wanted to move on to the Italian villa next, followed by the floating island. It really was wonderful to have so much after his life of having next to nothing, being abused and neglected by his so-called family. Perhaps he was being hypocritical, what with the way he was now treating his slaves, but he felt that it was their place as women to take whatever he gave them and did to them. No one in the magical world—well, no Dark or traditional people, anyway—would see what he was doing as wrong. His plans for Magical Britain would see the Light people so happy with the progress he would incite to bring them towards enlightenment, that they wouldn't even think of seeing anything he did was wrong.

“Nymph, time for your food,” he called out, shaking her now full food bowl. She came crawling in, as quickly as possible when on hands and knees, and assumed her “happy dog” position, with her tongue out of her mouth as she panted and her arms at her chest like meerkat paws. “Good girl,” he said, setting the bowl down and patting her twice on the head.

An owl at the window stopped him from going to see how Cow was doing. He opened the window, allowing the owl to swoop in and land on the back of his chair. It stuck out its leg and he took the letter. Upon seeing the words written in Dumbledore's distinctive loopy handwriting, he grimaced in preparation for having his happy plans dismantled. Apparently, he wouldn't be able to spend a week in Italy, let alone on his island.

_Dear Harry,_

_If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive this coming Friday at eleven p.m. to escort you to The Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays._

_If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way to The Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when I see you._

_Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday,_

_I am, yours most sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

It was already Thursday, so he assumed it had taken the owl a few days to get to him all the way from Hogwarts. As it seemed Dumbledore might be getting worried about his lack of answer, Harry quickly wrote, _Yes, please_ , _sorry for the late reply sir, my relatives and I spent the past few days in Majorca on holiday,_ on the reverse side and called Dobby. “Go to the Hogsmeade owl post office and send this to Dumbledore,” he said, handing the letter to the elf and adding two knuts for the owl fee.

“Yes, master,” Dobby said and popped away.

He turned back to Nymph, who was nearly done with her meager food portion. “You and Cow are going to have to stay in my trunk for a while longer than I thought. It's only been two weeks since school let out—Dumbledore can't even let me have a month of time out of his direct eyesight! Neither of you can be seen while I'm at The Burrow; Remus thinks you've run off to America with a man you met at a bar the night of the Will reading, drowning your sorrows, and Cow is supposed to be in Australia with her parents. I'm so glad I have you and Remus doesn't, I mean from what I've seen, he truly cares for you and he would have treated you like a queen! Instead, you're my little Nympho slut, in your rightful place as a woman, and I get to fuck and impregnate the love of his life while following the rules and laws of the society we live in.”

Nymph had finished her food by now and was staring up at him, close to tears at his words. “Come on, slut, let's pack you and Cow into my trunk and leave. I'll visit you both tonight for some fun.”

Nymph followed after him on her hands and knees as he went back outside to the shuddering form of Cow. Harry levitated her and went to his room, where he deposited his slaves in the storage compartment of his trunk.

“Winky!” he called.

The diminutive female elf popped before him. “Yes, master?” she asked.

“Get Nymph's food and water bowls and her cage from this house, as well as all the torture devices and sex toys from the Dover house, and put them in the storage compartment of my trunk.”

“Yes, master,” she said and popped away again to do that.

Ten minutes later, he was packed, and he got Winky to teleport him to the Dursley's back yard. Winky went back to do whatever she'd been doing before he called her, and Harry moved indoors. Petunia was cooking dinner, but she dropped her ladle when she saw him. “What are _you_ doing here, boy? You're not supposed to be here until the last few days of summer holidays,” she said, disgusted by the very sight of him.

“Tell that to Dumbledore,” he said, “he's picking me up tomorrow near midnight. I told him we'd been on a holiday to Majorca for the past few days and only got his letter today. You don't need to tell Vernon or Dudley I'm here, or even make me any food; I have my own. I'll stay in my room until he arrives, then leave before he gets to the door. If I have my way, none of you will be waking up for that.”

“Fine,” she spat out, “but keep quiet.”

Harry went upstairs and set down his trunk, then let his magic out to play. He stretched tendrils of his magic all the way down to the basement and the structural supports for the entire house. He caused the steel beams to rust through completely, now ready to snap at any moment, and made the concrete of the basement walls more porous and crumbly, as though they'd been made with incredibly substandard material, and put cracks into them to make them liable to fall apart at any moment. Next he reinforced it all with magic, and set a timer to it so that three hours and thirteen minutes into September third, the magic would fail. He was within his rights to kill the Dursleys for what they'd done to him, but if they died before he was back at Hogwarts, he had no idea what Dumbledore would do.

With his prison guards’ deaths planned and scheduled, Harry could rest easy. He headed for his trunk.

*

Dumbledore arrived right on time, and Harry was happy that was the case because he'd been sitting on the doorstep for the past half hour. He figured it was funny that he'd been left on the doorstep by Dumbledore to be found by the Dursleys, and now he was put back on the doorstep, all these years later, supposedly by the Dursleys so Dumbledore could find him.

“Ah, Harry my boy!” Dumbledore exclaimed happily, before groaning and joining Harry on the step. “Now, why are you out here, all by yourself?”

“I didn't want to wake the Dursleys, sir. They had to take me with them on holiday because of Voldemort, and we sort of came to an… understanding. I guess being away from this place, where there's so much bad history, helped all of us to move past it a bit. We don't love each other or anything yet, but I'd say we're… at ease. The last thing I wanted to do was force them to either stay up with me or have them wake up when you came knocking.”

Dumbledore smiled, but Harry could see he was holding back anger. Harry wanted to laugh at Dumbledore now not having a reason to go inside and Legilimise the Dursleys. “I'm so proud of you, my boy. Not everyone could forgive the people responsible for their neglect and work on trying to build some sort of relationship. Well, shall we?”

Harry nodded politely, then noticed something was wrong with the man's right hand. It was all blackened and burnt, as though he'd stuck it into a fire and left it there. With a jolt, Harry saw that Dumbledore was also wearing the ring of Marvolo Gaunt on his other hand, but it had a huge crack through the middle of the stone, meaning that he'd found it, put it on for some reason, survived or at least slowed down the curse, destroyed the Horcrux within, then put the ring on his other hand. This would bear some thinking about.


	5. Fake Revelations

As it turned out, the thing Dumbledore needed assistance with was getting Voldemort's old potions professor to take the teaching job again. Whether this meant that Snape had left for greener pastures or was given a different position, he didn't know. Slughorn was even more obese than he'd been the last time a young Tom Riddle had seen him, which he'd thought was impossible. Now, the walrus-sized man with the matching moustache was once again employed at Hogwarts, and Harry watched, bemused, as Dumbledore disappeared after a chat in a spidery broom shed and then delivering him to Mrs Weasley.

Harry turned to face the matron of the house and spotted Lupin sat at the table with a mug between his hands. Mrs Weasley patted him on the cheek and bustled off to the kitchen to make him some food. “What brings you here, Professor?” Harry asked, sitting down across from the man.

Lupin smiled tiredly. “I am no longer your professor, Harry, so please, call me Remus or Moony. As to what I'm doing here… well, it seems Tonks has gone missing. She sent me a letter saying she had found a romantic partner and was leaving for America with him, but I don't know whether to believe it or not. It seems too sudden.”

“You rejected her again, didn't you?” Harry said.

Lupin looked shocked. “I… what? How did—”

“I noticed last year in Grimmauld Place that she was looking at you the way Ron looked at Hermione, and even though Ron is so blind about his own feelings for her, he's clearly in love with her. Then, Sirius mentioned that she'd approached you, but you'd denied her, in one of his letters to me last year,” Harry fibbed.

Lupin flinched when Harry mentioned Sirius’ name, then looked down, ashamed. “He said that? Well, I guess since you know… Look, I'm thirty-six, and she's twenty-three, that's a thirteen-year age gap! When I was in my third year at Hogwarts, she was only just born! And on top of that, I'm a known werewolf and she's an Auror, it would be very bad for her career to get involved with me, she might even end up losing her job all together!”

Harry interrupted him. “Stop, Prof—er… Remus, you're being ridiculous. You can't think of your age gap like that. When you're a hundred, she'll be eighty seven! That's not the sort of age gap that's horrifying. If she were twenty or even thirty years younger than you, I'd understand that reluctance. You being a werewolf has made your looks age prematurely, but that doesn't matter either.”

Lupin looked like he wanted to deny the point Harry had made but couldn't refute his logic. Harry continued, “As for the second point, you may be a werewolf, yes, but you have Wolfsbane to prevent you from hurting her, and while she may be an Auror, you are known to be a good, intelligent man who taught at Hogwarts for a year without infecting anyone, and an Order member who's fighting for the Light.”

He shook his head slowly as he considered Harry's words. He went in for the kill. “You were denied friends and normal human contact for your entire childhood until my dad, Sirius, and Pettigrew showed you that you could have them. Then you lost them and you started believing you didn't deserve anyone's love or friendship. Tonks wanted to prove otherwise again, but you kept trying to prove her wrong and reject her. Apparently, you pushed too far and she found someone to have a whirlwind romance with. She was prepared to love you through all your doubt and self-hatred, and you made her run away.”

Lupin was now visibly upset. “I—I didn't understand it, but now I do. I made her run away when all I had to do to find everything I wanted was to say yes. No wonder she found someone.”

Deep in thought, he said goodbye to Mrs Weasley just as she came back with Harry's food, and left. She turned to Harry. “Thank you, dear. I've been trying to get him to understand that for over an hour now. It's a hard lesson to learn, but now he seems on his way to understanding it.”

He smiled at her as he dug into his food, planning to fuck Nymph extra hard and tell her all about his mind games with Lupin. Of course, that went out the window when he spotted Crookshanks saunter past. Hermione was here. He had come up with the beginnings of a grand plan over the past three weeks, and part of it involved Hermione. She was scary smart, yes, but she had a blind, unwavering loyalty to authority figures. If he played it right, he could get her on his side and under his control. If he could manage it, he'd have her as his willing slave. If not, an unwilling one would do. First, however, he had to talk to her and Ron about a few things he'd come up with to start the ball rolling.

Once he'd finished the food, he handed the empty plate to Mrs Weasley with a smile and headed upstairs. He knocked on Ginny's door, and he opened it when she called out, “Yeah?”

He had a split second to see Ginny at a makeshift vanity, brushing her hair, and see Hermione reading on a camp bed, before the latter rushed at him and near squeezed the life out of him, screeching his name.

He laughed and hugged her back, swinging her around in a circle before setting her down again. Her cheeks were flushed and she had a slightly bemused smile when he saw her again, and he congratulated himself. He wanted to make her believe that he had feelings for her, and the best way to get that started was to make her feel girly when he did things like that, and make her analytical mind start to wonder why she felt like that.

“I can't believe you're here already!” she exclaimed. “We didn't think you'd be here until the morning!”

Harry smiled crookedly at her and noticed her blush reappearing again. “Well, Dumbledore needed my help to get the new potions professor to agree to the job, and it didn't take as much time as we thought it would, so now I'm here. It's a good thing, actually, because I've been wanting to talk to you and Ron about something important. Can you come with me?”

“Of course, Harry! I always have time for you,” she said, then blushed when she realised what she'd said. This might be easier than he thought. They walked out of the room, and Harry noticed happily that Ginny looked annoyed that he hadn't even acknowledged her.

They entered Ron's room, and the occupant saw Harry and grinned. “It's about time you got here, mate.”

Harry grinned back, but knew that Ron had pushed all his jealousy under the surface for the time being. He had to be careful about what he told Ron. “Yeah, well I'm here now. No more Dursleys for a year.”

Ron motioned for him to sit down, and only then did he notice Hermione's presence beside him. “Hi,” he said, his ears going red when he noticed that she was in her nightgown with a thin robe over the top. Hermione just rolled her eyes at his reaction. “Hello, Ronald.”

Harry broke into their awkwardness. “I wanted to tell you both something that Dumbledore told me at the end of last year. He told me then that I wasn't allowed to tell anyone, but tonight he said that I was allowed to tell you two.”

His two friends instantly became more serious, and Harry continued, “It turns out that the prophecy we were trying to protect in the Department of Mysteries was originally witnessed by Dumbledore. When I got back to Hogwarts after… after Sirius,” he stopped here as though still broken up about it, then continued with a perfect tremor in his voice, “Dumbledore showed me a memory of Trelawney speaking the prophecy. It says, ‘ _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…_ ’”

Harry stopped suddenly as he pretended to only just notice how jealous Ron looked. Hermione looked between the two before also seeing what Harry had. Harry cleared his throat in an awkward fashion before changing the subject slightly. “Anyway, that's what I've been stressing over all summer. The other thing Dumbledore said tonight was that OWLs would be arriving sometime in the morning.”

Hermione started before suspiciously narrowing her eyes at Harry, then allowed him to change the subject. A good fifteen minutes later, Hermione left with another odd look at Harry, and then ten minutes after that, Harry let his magic put everyone but himself and Hermione into a gradual but very deep sleep. He exited Ron's room and deliberately stepped on the squeaky step outside Ginny's room. He waited until he heard movement from inside the room before continuing down to the kitchen, and sat himself down on the top step outside with the door ajar so anyone would be able to see him.

It was five minutes later when Hermione joined him, silently laying her head down on his shoulder. It was quiet for a time until Hermione spoke up. “Something else happened, didn't it? Something that's worried you more than the prophecy Dumbledore told you.”

He gave a broken laugh. “You always seem to know when something's wrong, don't you?”

A look from Hermione made him smile half-heartedly. “No changing the subject, I know.” He gave a sigh. “When Dumbledore showed me the prophecy, it was the second time I'd seen it. There was about a minute between one part of the battle and the next where I was separated from everyone, and I wanted to know what all the fuss was about. What Dumbledore showed me was only about two thirds of the true prophecy. The rest goes, ' _The Light has lost its way, and the Dark even more so… the One is the best of both worlds and will bring balance back to the Wizarding World… the Golden Age of Wizarding Britain approaches, with the One at the helm…'"_

Hermione looked horrified. “Dumbledore… lied? But—but why? And what does the last third mean?”

“This is what I spent the summer thinking about. The first part makes the Voldemort situation seem like an almost impossible battle and like this Chosen One character needs to sacrifice themselves to even get a chance at winning. ‘ _Neither can live while the other survives_ ’ is the phrase that you focussed on, isn't it?”

Hermione nodded. Harry continued, “Me too, at first, but then when I wrote the entire thing down to try going phrase by phrase, I figured out that it's the phrase before that, ‘ _Either must die at the hand of the other_ ’, plus the last third of the prophecy, that made it all start to make sense.” He was loving how interested Hermione was getting by the total bullshite he was weaving into an intricate web. “The word ‘either’ implies two people or parties, and ‘other’ could imply that the two people or parties might destroy each other or, the meaning I ended up with, that there's a third person or party who must kill either of the other two parties.

“Then, the ‘ _neither can live while the other survives_ ’ phrase starts to make sense, because if the third party only destroys one of the other two, the third party cannot survive, so even though the phrase before suggests that only one of three parties must die, the latter phrase suggests that if only one dies, the other will betray the third party, and said party will then die. Dumbledore didn't show me the last third of the prophecy because it's the key that unlocks the rest of the prophecy. The Light and the Dark are the two parties which are trying to destroy each other, and both are horribly wrong in their skewed ideals, both need the help of the Chosen One if they want to completely succeed, it's why Voldemort wanted to get the prophecy and why Dumbledore became my magical guardian yet placed me with the Dursleys. Both Lords of the sides are trying to find ways to control me and win their war.”

Hermione had her hands covering her mouth, and her eyes were wide in horrified understanding. “That explains everything that's happened in our Hogwarts years! Dumbledore must have set up that Philosopher's Stone fiasco, not to trap Voldemort, but to test your capability to defeat Voldemort and further your hatred of him. And you told me that Voldemort tried to get you to join him when you were down there. Second year, there are supposed to be Dark artifact wards covering Hogwarts—Hogwarts, A History says so _three separate times_ —Dumbledore must have known about Ginny and the diary all year, and he was _there_ the last time the Chamber was opened, and he had more than enough time to question Myrtle, figure out where the Chamber was, and what was in it, and he let us figure it out for ourselves! He sent you nothing but the Sorting Hat and Fawkes, _just_ enough to let you ‘defeat’ the ‘evil’ hidden there.”

Harry nodded, furrowing his brows in fake thought. “He also was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot during the last Voldemort war, and he was the only one alive during that time powerful and knowledgeable enough to cast the Fidelius. The caster _must_ choose the Secret Keeper, and only the caster can change who that is. I researched it a couple of weeks ago by wearing a blond wig, sneaking out under my invisibility cloak, and taking the Knight Bus to Diagon.”

She gave him a look that said he shouldn't have risked his safety like that but then said, “So he had to have known Sirius was innocent, but still pronounced him guilty and sentencing him to life in Azkaban, and also that Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper and thus must have known he was the true betrayer of the Potters. After all, when we told him in the Hospital Wing, he didn't at all seem surprised and deliberately hinted that I should use the time turner in a way that might get both of us killed just so that he could test you again.”

Harry nodded. “Fourth year, I didn't actually have to participate in the Triwizard Tournament. I bought a book on the complete history of the event this summer, after I started figuring all this out, and it included the full contract. The book was self-updating so it had the modern contract that last year's participants were entered in. If it had actually been me who entered myself, then I could have forfeited immediately, so long as my magical guardian agreed, but as it was Crouch Junior, his magic was actually the one attached to the contract, not mine, no matter what the parchment actually said, and when I participated in the first task, with my magical guardian's permission, I took his place as his substitute, tying my magic over his to the contract.”

“You told me Dumbledore _was_ your magical guardian,” Hermione said. “How did you know, and how is he not anymore?”

“Remember the will reading?” Harry said. “Dumbledore told the goblin he was, and the goblin said I'd been emancipated the minute he allowed me to participate in the Tournament.”

Hermione looked confused, then her eyes slowly widened. “I didn't remember that until you told me. How could that be?”

“Dumbledore must have tampered with the minds of everyone who attended the reading, except me because he thought I was still under his thumb,” Harry said. “He was probably waiting until it could benefit him to mention it, or just couldn't be bothered to properly Obliviate you all.”

Over the course of the conversation, he had slowly made his expression more and more stressed and worried. “I just don't get it! All my life, all I ever wanted was to have someone to love me, to care for me, and instead all I get is tests, battles, and near-death experiences.”

Hermione took his face in her hands. “You _are_ loved, Harry! I know the Weasleys love you like you were their own, and I'm pretty sure Hagrid sees you as a son-type figure.”

He shook his head as much as he could. “I don't mean like that. The Dursleys already failed horribly at providing parent figures, I don't really want others who try to replace my actual parents.”

Hermione's expression became one of devastated understanding. “I tried with Cho, all I ever heard about her was how pretty she was, how… how great she'd be in bed and elsewhere, but when I tried getting to know her to see if she wanted to maybe get into a serious relationship, all she wanted to talk about was Cedric. She just couldn't get past the fact I'd seen him die and wanted to know if he'd said anything about her in the total of ten minutes I ever interacted with him. It was only these past few weeks that I figured out where I'd gone wrong. I needed someone who knew me already, someone who always went out of their way to help me, no matter what.”

Hermione was looking at him with dawning comprehension, so as her grip on his face slackened slightly, he leaned towards her and kissed her. In the next moment, before she could react, he pulled back and looked as scared as he could. “I-I'm sorry,” he stuttered, then ran off upstairs, leaving Hermione frozen on the doorstep.

He ran up to Ron's room and hid himself under the covers, ready for when Hermione would come after him, as he knew she would. This had been so much easier than he'd thought it would be; she'd sucked up his poor-little-abused-boy-who-just-wants-love act as though it was the most decadent milkshake, after all, and he'd just put the last chocolate shavings on top of it by kissing her, making her feel desirable and girly.

It had taken only about half an hour in total to get her prepared for this advance after three weeks of little to no contact with her. That meant she'd been seriously crushing on him for a while, likely for over a year, and likely on both him and Ron. She had probably convinced herself she was in love with one or both of them, but had mostly given up on either of them ever loving her back, so had tried to content herself with just being their friends. She'd likely had many fantasies where one of them revealed that they'd been in love with her all along and that something had kept them from telling her. Voldemort had made it a point to study many female's minds, so he actually knew how some of them worked, and Harry had just played on every single one of her soft spots and weaknesses to make her believe he was in love with her but afraid to show it for some reason.

Soft footsteps outside the door signalled her presence a few seconds before the handle was turned and the door opened without a creak. He huddled himself up into more of a ball when he felt her eyes on him. Some more, silent, seconds later, she took a deep breath and approached the camp bed he was lying on. “Harry?” she whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed. He shuddered and curled up into an even smaller ball. “Harry, I'm not angry. I was just… surprised that you thought of me that way. I'm not used to being liked like that. My whole childhood I was the bushy, buck-toothed know-it-all who would never have friends, or be pretty and popular, and for the first few years of Hogwarts, I felt the same, even with you and Ron as friends.”

Well that definitely sounded rehearsed. He absent-mindedly wondered how many times she'd fantasised about this exact or a similar conversation late at night before she went to sleep. “I shouldn't have… have kissed you,” he whispered hoarsely, as though barely holding back tears. “Ron likes you, and I don't deserve someone as amazing as you.”

“What?” she said. “He—then why hasn't he said anything?”

“He thinks it's not the right time. He wants you to come to him, begging to be his girlfriend, and even then he said he wanted to wind you up by dating someone else more ‘fun’ before settling for you.”

Silence for a long moment. “How—how dare he!” she said, her voice quivering with anger and only just managing to remain this side of quiet. “I would never stoop so low as to date him if that's the way he thinks I should act! I'll have you know that you're the one that I like, Ronald Weasley never stood a chance!”

Yes, he did, but he hadn't done anything about it and so Harry would take Hermione for himself. He shifted so he was sitting, facing her. “You really like me?” he asked, his voice full of hope.

Hermione blushed madly, but managed to nod. “I do.”

“Why? I mean, I'm nothing special, Hermione. You, you're amazing, beautiful, kind, funny, and absolutely whip-smart; why would you want to settle for a guy like me?”

Perfectly in line with her fantasies, which he was now carefully accessing since he had unlimited eye contact with her. She blushed deeper. “I'm not ‘settling’ for anything. You're incredibly brave and powerful, and so honourable and chivalrous that you're obviously willing to let me be with someone else while you stay my friend. You're also smarter than you make yourself out to be, which I suspect is due to those rotten Dursleys, and your sarcastic sense of humour always makes me want to laugh until my cheeks hurt. I like _you_ , not Ron, who's just going to have to get over this and his immense, self-centred jealous streak before I curse him into oblivion for seeing me as someone to settle for.”

Harry swallowed almost audibly and hesitantly reached out for her hand, which was clutching the blanket to prevent herself from flinging them around in anger. She sucked in a small breath when their skin touched, and she looked down at their joined hands, then into his eyes again. “M-may I kiss you?” he asked like he was fearing rejection. She blushed yet again and nodded, so he carefully leant towards her and kissed her properly, his other hand rising to cup her face. She made a noise and opened her mouth, so he softly stroked her tongue with his and moaned quietly when hers joined his in a gentle dance. They broke it at the same time, looking away and blushing beet-red. It wasn't actually that difficult to get his face to blush, really. All it took was practice in controlling what his metamorphmagus skills could do to his face, and he'd had plenty of practice, plus Nymph's hesitant instructions.

“You… um, you should probably get some sleep,” he said.

She nodded quickly. “Y-yeah, you too.” She got up and went to the door before stopping and turning to him again. “Should we… keep this a secret?”

Harry shook his head. “Why bother? Ron's going to get jealous and angry no matter when we reveal it, and so is Ginny. Mr and Mrs Weasley will be happy for us, I think, and I'll leave it up to you to tell your parents about us. Nothing else except us matters. The people who turn on us were likely to turn anyway at some point.”

She nodded and relaxed. Ah, it had been a test. Women really were such odd creatures. “Well, good night, Harry,” she said.

“Good night,” he replied. “Sweet dreams.”

She smiled brightly. “You too.”

She left the room and closed the door behind her. He waited for a few moments, then relaxed his magic on the other members of the household, allowing all but Ron to slip into a more natural sleep, then opened his trunk to the storage section and climbed in. All that pretending and kissing had made him antsy and horny. Luckily, he had two slaves to take it out on.


	6. Taking Advantage of Naive Teenage Girls

The next day, Harry sat next to a blushing Hermione for breakfast. Ginny was the first to notice. “Hermione, your face is really red, did you accidentally walk into one of Fred and George's make-up-a-trons?”

Hermione shook her head. “Make-up-a-tron?” she asked, trying to control the spreading blush as Harry took her hand under the table.

Ginny's eyes narrowed slightly, then she said, “One of their failed products that they scrapped because they couldn't get the charms right. It was supposed to apply perfect makeup to anyone who used it, but the only thing they could make it do was add blusher all over the face. They gave up and just stashed them all over the house so they could come back to them someday when they knew more about makeup charms. Going by how your blush just got worse, I'd say it's something else.”

Harry simply put their joined hands on top of the table. Ginny gasped, and Mrs Weasley clasped her hands together. Fleur, in the background, smiled wistfully. “Hermione and I got together last night, it's no secret,” Harry said.

“What!” said Ron's enraged voice as he entered the kitchen. “How could you, Harry? When you know me and Hermione are meant for each other!”

Hermione stood and faced him, eyes aflame. “He knew nothing of the sort, Ronald Weasley! I have been in love with Harry since he jumped on the back of that troll and saved my life, so why, apart from your horrifying manners, your disregard for all my ideas and intelligence, your cruel teasing of what I find important, and your huge jealous streak of Harry's unfortunate fame, do you think you and I are meant for each other?”

Ron's mouth opened and closed a few times, then he growled and stormed off. If Harry were actually truly in love with Hermione and not just planning on moulding her so he could use her for his own ends, he would probably find himself even more in love with her. Luckily for him, that wasn't the case. Of course, he had to pretend like he was, so he stood and wrapped his arms around her, calming her. She turned in his arms, holding him back, and from behind them he heard Ginny say, “What a self-centred jerk!”

He looked at her and she shrugged, ducking her head. “I don't deny that I had a crush on you for ages, hundreds of little girls raised in the magical world did, and I also don't deny that I still deluded myself for years that even though I was one of many in the same position, that  _ something _ would make me stand out to you and you'd care about me in that way. In the last year though, I gave up a bit, and now I'm actually dating Dean Thomas. We've exchanged a lot of letters this summer, and I genuinely care about him in a more healthy way than I obsessed about you. What I'm trying to say is that I'm happy for you both, and that if Ron tries to ruin anything, he'll have to deal with me, Fred, and George.”

Hermione smiled, but Harry frowned. “I noticed you were annoyed I didn't pay attention to you last night.”

She shrugged. “Well yeah, you came into my room and didn't even say hi to me. Just because I'm not obsessed with you doesn't mean I want to not play any part in your life.”

Harry smiled. “How about as an honorary sister?”

Ginny grinned and said, “I'd like that.”

All three heard a sniffle and turned to one of the two remaining people in the room, Mrs Weasley. “I'm so proud of you three,” she said, sniffling again. “I always hoped you would join our family in some way, Harry, and it seems that although it won't be official, I'd be happy to call you my honorary son.”

Harry gave a shaky smile. “I'd like that, Mrs Weasley.”

“Please, call me Molly,” the woman insisted, “I think you'd probably feel uncomfortable calling me mum, so Molly seems appropriate—after all, without you, I wouldn't have my Arthur, and the kids wouldn't have their dad.”

“Molly, then,” Harry said. A quick Legilimency check of Fleur's mind showed she was happy for the two, as evidenced by the smile, but she was also depressed about her family moving to Australia without warning. Almost the entirety of her mind was taken up by her mental anguish, and as such was acting far more submissive than she was by nature, which had actually caused Molly to like the young Frenchwoman and teach her about English cooking. Oh, this was fascinating.

At that moment, Hermione, who was still in his arms, broke him out of his thoughts by gasping and rushing to the window. He rolled his eyes fondly and followed her, seeing what had caught her attention. Three tawny owls were winging their way across the sky, flying ever closer to The Burrow, with their OWL results attached. Hermione seemed strangely calm as the owls flew in the open window and landed on the table in a perfect line. He gave her a questioning look, which she seemed to understand because she blushed. “I know, I know. Usually I'd be worried about if I failed everything, act hysterical, but in light of… recent… revelations, OWL results seem to not be as important anymore.”

Harry sighed understandingly and kissed her on the cheek, prompting romantic sighs from Molly and Ginny and making Hermione giggle slightly. He unburdened the owls and sorted through the three letters, taking his own, handing Hermione's to her, and seemingly hesitating for before leaving Ron's on the table. Hermione had already opened hers and was reading through everything carefully, so he quickly slit his open and unfolded his results.

_ ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVEL RESULTS _

_ Pass Grades: Outstanding (O) _

_ Exceeds Expectations (E) _

_ Acceptable (A) _

_ Fail Grades: Poor (P) _

_ Dreadful (D) _

_ Troll (T) _

_ HARRY JAMES POTTER HAS RECEIVED: _

_ Astronomy: A _

_ Care of Magical Creatures: E _

_ Charms: E _

_ Defence Against the Dark Arts: O _

_ Divination: P _

_ Herbology: E _

_ History of Magic: D _

_ Potions: E _

_ Transfiguration: E _

This was actually better than he'd feared. Only failing two classes was much better than failing three or four, which would get in the way of his plans. He certainly didn't want to take Astronomy, as it would take away precious time at night he could be using to sleep or fuck his slaves. That left him with six classes out of the nine he'd been taking last year. He knew Slughorn accepted Exceeds Expectations into his NEWT classes, so he could still do potions, which would help to make Dumbledore think he still wanted to be an Auror until the old goat floated off his mortal coil. Taking Care of Magical Creatures would keep Hagrid happy with him, and it would also enable him to get the needed credentials for some of his later plans, as would taking Herbology.

He raised his head to look at Hermione, who had her head bent and was still clearly staring at her results. “How did you do, Hermione?” he asked softly.

She raised her head and smiled at him. “I did well,” she said. “Not as perfect as I would have liked, but I passed all eleven OWLs; ten Outstandings and one Exceeds Expectations.”

“That's great, Hermione!” he said, picking her up and spinning her around again. Once she was put down, he said, “How many NEWT subjects are you going to take, then? I passed seven, but I only want to take six of them. How about you?”

“Hmm, well Charms and Transfiguration are always a good idea, especially since both of them work well together with Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, both of which I want to take. Defence is a good idea with us being on the brink of war and all, Potions because you never know when you'll need to whip up NEWT level potions, and Herbology is always nice to do. I… I don't think I want to do Care anymore though. And as easy as the extracurricular Muggle Studies OWL was, all it did was confirm how messed up the Wizarding World's view of Muggles is, so I don't want to continue private study in that.”

“I didn't even notice you were doing the Muggle Studies exam,” Harry said, “but I guess it must have been a really easy exam.”

She nodded. “It was. You should have done it too, you would have passed easily.”

He shook his head. “I think you underestimate just how much the Dursleys isolated me, Hermione,” he said sadly. “I know about TV and electricity, and that cars work by pressing the gas pedal that makes the engine run somehow, but all the other stuff that you probably know about the Muggle world, the stuff normal kids learn about as they grow up, I never got to learn. Sometimes, Muggleborns are really lucky, they have amazing understanding parents who treasure their kid no matter what, but other times, they aren't so lucky. I'm one of the latter, and I'm sure that people in my situation are too focussed on surviving than learning about the world around them.”

He saw that all four women had tears in their eyes, and he shifted uncomfortably. “I didn't say that to get you all feeling sorry for me. Yes, I'm an abuse survivor, but that doesn't mean you should treat me any differently. The last thing I want is to be treated different to the way you've always treated me. The only thing I ever wanted when I was younger, apart from escaping from that hell-hole and knowing that I was loved and cared for, was to be normal.”

He strode off outside and made for the orchard, congratulating himself on a job well done. He may not like the feeling of people pitying him and just about bawling when he told them his life story, but in order to go up you had to go down sometimes. He wanted them, Hermione especially, to be in awe of and respect him, and the best way he could do that was to show them what his good-Harry character had managed to overcome. He was, after all, the epitome of all that was Gryffindor, and thus he had to show he was worthy of being great and good. Overcoming his relatives’ abuse was his starting point. Hermione already ‘knew’ what the prophecy contained, and that he was the Chosen One who would bring back balance to the Force… or was that Magical Britain?

He kept his amusement at his joke internal, because just as he sat down beneath one of the more secluded apple trees, he heard the soft footsteps of Hermione approaching him. He put on his best annoyed/upset expression.

“I'm sorry for bringing up such painful memories, Harry,” Hermione said. “I guess I was still stuck on the high of getting eleven OWLs and didn't stop to consider your point of view, which I understand completely now that you've shown it to me. You have seen the very worst of humanity, and you know how widespread it is. The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

“There's no such thing as Child Protective Services in the magical world because in their culture, children are the most precious things ever and must be protected at all costs, so even Death Eaters, who would otherwise be happy to kill as many adult Muggles as they come across, never actually killed kids, Muggle or magical. If you go back through the Daily Prophet articles to the first Voldemort war, you will never find a single mention of children being killed,” Harry said, making his sudden knowledge seem like an almost obsessive search through past Prophet articles to figure out Death Eater techniques.

“What does this have to do with your abuse?” Hermione asked, confused.

“If I were to get a children's department started, in the end it would just look like blood supremacy because if I had it my way, Muggle families with magical children would be identified and approached way before their Hogwarts education was approaching. Each family would be carefully assessed to see if the parents were like yours, or like my so-called family, and the kids in abusive or neglectful families would be taken away and their parents Obliviated. Even the ones deemed safe would be monitored passively to make sure that some piece of accidental magic doesn't freak out the parents and make them abusive or neglectful.” He saw her expression and hurried to assure her. “I know it seems strict and very harsh a punishment, but think of it from my perspective. If a system like this had been in place and Dumbledore hadn't specifically meddled with my case, I could have grown up in a loving family. And you, you wouldn't have spent your childhood wondering what was wrong with you, because you would have already known you were a witch. You would have likely seen any visits from the Department as fun and endlessly fascinating to know you'd met another witch or wizard.”

Harry was happy to note that Hermione was nodding slowly, pondering his thoughts. Finally, she accepted his argument. “You're right. Muggles, or rather humans in general, do tend to fear the unknown, so the parents would likely also appreciate the revelation and maybe even prevent some situations from turning abusive just because they actually know what's going on.”

Always the optimist, was Hermione. Humans were naturally violent creatures, and the only species worldwide that killed for sport, fun, and trophies. However, he simply nodded and moved to a different subject. “So, you said to Ron that you were in love with me?”

Hermione instantly went beet red. “I… er…”

He chuckled lowly, sexily, and he saw her shiver at the sound. “The thing is, I'm in love with you too. I didn't mention it last night because I didn't want to make it look like I was going too fast.”

She turned to face him properly. “You… you do?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

She practically beamed, then flung herself at him. Their lips were crushed together in Hermione's onslaught, but Harry deepened the kiss and dominated her immediately. She moaned as she collapsed into him, and he took it one step further by planting feather soft kisses along her jawline and down her neck until he hit her sweet spot, causing her to squeak and go limp. He sucked on it a bit more, then nibbled it just enough to get her into a near-mindless state, then he made himself seem like he forced himself to stop. Hermione just panted hard for a few minutes, slowly regaining her sanity, then saw him with his eyes scrunched shut.

“What's wrong?” she asked.

“I—I don't want to pressure you into anything,” he said in a perfect tortured voice. “I've fantasised about this, about us, but… how do I know if I'm taking it too far? We've basically only been dating for a few hours, after all.”

“If you go too far, my love,” she said, taking his head in her hands again and making him meet her eyes, “I'll let you know, I promise. I could never regret anything we did together, and besides, I've also fantasised about us, too.” She bit her lip, then looked around nervously. Upon seeing no one, and realising just how secluded they were, she promptly took off her shirt. 

Harry stared at her partially uncovered breasts as though he'd never seen any before. “Guh,” he said.

She giggled. “They're just breasts, Harry. Every woman has them. Nothing special.”

This prompted him to tear his eyes away from her breasts and focus on her eyes again. “Nothing special? Are you kidding? They're the exact opposite! And besides, every single part of you is special!”

She smiled, happy he was defending her, even against herself, then bit her lip again and reached back to unclip the bra's hooks. Now, she sat with each hand holding a cup in place, and Harry had made himself rather red in the face, but not so much that he looked horrible and blotchy. He wanted to see how far he could push her after just a few hours into a relationship.

Taking a big breath, Hermione allowed the bra to fall to the ground, then took his hands and placed one on each breast. He gasped and seemingly involuntarily brushed over her stiff nipple, making her gasp as well. He got a curious look on his face and asked her for permission with his eyes. She allowed it, so he carefully, hesitantly, lowered his mouth over her left nipple and started teasing it with his tongue and lightly running his teeth over it. Hermione moaned loudly and buried her hands in his hair, pulling him in closer. He sucked it in, twirled it around his mouth a couple of times, then nibbled on it a bit before doing the same to her right nipple.

She was now practically thrashing about while trying to remain as still as possible, so he backed off to prevent any of his hair from being pulled out. Of course, with his Metamorph abilities he could grow it back in a moment, but he really didn't feel like experiencing any pain now or ever. “Wh-why'd you stop?” She whimpered.

“You nearly ripped out some of my hair,” he said, grinning slightly at how red she went.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, and then noticed Harry's big, hard cock straining against his pants. When she couldn't seem to drag her eyes away, he said, “Do you want to see it?”

Once again, she bit her lip, then nodded, her innate curiosity getting the better of her, once again. He unzipped his jeans and loosened the button before getting his cock out from his pants. Hermione gasped. “Is… is it… big?”

He smirked. If he had his way, she'd never see anyone else's, so she'd never know if he said it was the biggest in the school or if it was rather small. Then again, what was the point in lying? “I'm the second biggest in our dorm, behind Dean, and word is that he's the biggest in our year. Take that to mean what you want.” His expression sobered. “Hermione, how far do you want to go right now? I know you said you would tell me and you wouldn't regret anything we did together, but I want to know how comfortable you are and how far you want to go.”

She smiled at him adoringly. “I know we haven't even been dating for a day, but we've been best friends for five years. I meant what I said to Ron before; I love you. So long as we're careful, I would like to go all the way.”

Harry smiled as well. “Okay then, all the way it is.”

He took off his shirt and laid it aside, moving on to his trousers and pants as Hermione quickly caught on and shucked her own trousers and underwear. Now, they were both naked, and he saw she was covering herself in self-consciousness. He gently reached out and pulled her hands away, then kissed her. She responded slowly, then all at once, flinging her arms around him with a moan.

Harry manoeuvred her down onto the soft ground and started kissing down her throat and chest. He focussed on her nipples for a bit again before kissing down her chest some more. He avoided her belly button, knowing many women were either uncomfortable with their belly buttons or were ticklish there, and continued down to her tight, virgin pussy.

He stuck his tongue inside her and used the skills he'd culminated over the past few weeks to make her orgasm quickly. After all, while he didn't give one flying fuck about her pleasure, or about the pleasure of either of his slaves, he _ did _ care about appearances. He'd learnt how to orally pleasure women so that when he got back to Hogwarts, he could start a relationship and appear normal. It was an added bonus that Hermione had the potential to be very hot; he just had to coax it out of her.

He pulled another orgasm out of her, then got on his hands and knees and manoeuvred himself so that his cock was positioned at her entrance. Hermione put her hand on his chest and said, “Wait.”

Annoyed but not showing it, he did as asked while she reached into her pile of clothes, reached into her jeans, and pulled out a Muggle condom. She saw the look he gave her and blushed. “Mum gave me a packet before I left for the Weasleys, she said I was going to be seventeen soon so I might as well have some, just in case. I put this in my pocket this morning, I didn't know if—”

Harry kissed her to shut her up, making her squeak when his cock barely touched her lower lips. He took the condom wrapper, opened it, and put the condom on his cock. Then, he said, “I love you, Hermione. I love how prepared you are.”

He kissed her again, then slid himself in and stopped at her hymen. Carefully and slowly, he pushed past it, then stopped and held Hermione as she sniffled at the pain. After a few moments, she shifted and accidentally made him slide a little deeper inside her, making her gasp in pleasure. He thrust all the way in, groaning at how tight she was, then pulled back and thrust in again. He started up a rhythm that was not too rough, but would also get her wondering what it would feel if it were rougher. He ploughed away at her, and when the end came, he went in as deep as he could and let go.

When he became aware again, he let himself fall to her side, and took off the condom. He threw it somewhere to the side before taking her in his arms and kissing her tenderly. Hermione was sporting a huge grin as she said, “I know why so many people do this now.”

Harry laughed. “Me too, my love. I… er… well to tell you the truth, I was in the library near the Dursleys’ house and I came across a book that… well…”

She giggled. “You came across a kama sutra, didn't you?”

Harry nodded, using his Metamorph skills to simulate a heavy blush. “I wanted to know how to do this, and how to do that thing I did with my mouth.”

“Well you were amazing,” Hermione reassured him. “I don't think I've ever had better orgasms than the three I had just then.”

He blushed more while congratulating himself for making her come for a third time with how hard he had fucked her. His plan to slowly increase his roughness and subtly convince her that she was only there for his pleasure might actually work! Of course, he had the advantage of more than fifty years of experience in psychological manipulation, plus being a Master Legilimens, so it would be a walk in the park to get her to see things his way, and if she protested in any way, he'd mentally remove her reasons for protesting, then act like he was the victim. If that didn't work, he'd Obliviate her and start over.

“I'll make sure to do it again next time,” he said.


	7. It's All Falling Into Place

Weeks passed, and Harry was truly getting bored. Hermione would have been the perfect girlfriend for him if he had been his old, pathetic self, but being as he was, he found himself quickly tiring of her care and concern for him every time Sirius was mentioned, or another Voldemort-related attack appeared in the Daily Prophet. He was just glad he could take out his frustrations on his two now pregnant slaves at night, or he'd surely have snapped and killed then all within the first few days. He'd been right in his theory that the almost constant stimulation would cause Cow's mind to fracture faster. From what he could discern during his nightly mental examination of her, the Veela felt justified that their Master wouldn't hurt them, and the human part couldn't function at all under the onslaught of so much constant pleasure. The human part died in two weeks, a record time; the Veela part died two days after. Harry tested his slaves and found that she'd been pregnant for a week at that stage. Nymph had already been pregnant for two weeks. All Harry did was cast protection spells over their wombs and bellies, and fuck them just as hard as he usually did. Not a bad birthday present for himself, he thought.

On the first of August, however, respite arrived in the form of their Hogwarts letters. His contained the Quidditch Captain's badge, making him want to alternatively smirk and scowl because he knew it meant Dumbledore was trying to butter him up, but also that there would be more demands on his time, so he had less time to get his plans going. Ron was pissed off that Harry had the badge, since he decided that Harry would prevent Ron from playing simply because Hermione was now his girlfriend. Idiot. He would never let a _female_ control his actions.

Harry and Hermione left, to "celebrate", and he fucked her nice and hard, though sadly still while wearing a condom. Over the past few weeks, he'd slowly upped how hard he fucked his girlfriend, and had been delighted when Hermione had actually wanted him to go harder and faster a few times. After each of those times, he'd implanted the thought in her mind that she liked him taking control, because she liked it when he lost control, and when he went harder, she was sure to get more pleasure as a result. He didn't think it would take very long for her to become entirely submissive to him, and then he would brainwash her to agree with his views and not care what he did to his slaves or offspring. Soon after they'd re-dressed from the "celebration", they heard Molly's voice calling for everyone to come to the kitchen, so, hand in hand they quickly headed back inside, discovering that they were to leave for Diagon Alley within the next ten minutes. Of course, this set off Ron, who hadn't eaten any breakfast yet because he'd secluded himself in his room after Harry and Hermione's betrayal. Molly simply sighed, rolled her eyes, and handed over a plate of food. "Eat it quickly, so we can leave."

Ron, being the bottomless pit he was, quickly demolished his plate and demanded another. However, Molly was _not_ in the mood for his behaviour and had his plate washed and dried in the blink of an eye before shooing him out the front door where Harry, Hermione, Fleur, and Ginny stood, looking at the black Ministry car that was standing in the driveway. Molly bustled out the door and ushered them into the car, which once again had far more space on the inside than what it looked like from the outside. 

The ride to Diagon Alley was tense, as Ron kept shooting everyone angry looks and wouldn't participate in the stilted conversation Molly struck up. Finally, they arrived and disembarked, meeting Hagrid outside the Leaky Cauldron, and Molly handed Harry a pouch of Galleons. "Bill got these for you yesterday so you wouldn't have to go into Gringotts and spend more time in Diagon Alley than necessary. It's safer, and faster too. Bill says it's taking people at least five hours to get through the lines at Gringotts."

Harry nodded, cursing himself for forgetting that Molly still had his trust vault key. He made a mental note to send a letter to his Potter account manager, asking for the recall of all vault keys that weren't in his direct possession. He took the money pouch and emptied it inside his mokeskin pouch, which he only ever took off when getting totally naked, and dutifully followed Molly and Hagrid through the empty pub into the Alley, and to their first stop, Flourish and Blotts. Hagrid had wanted to split up the party into two and go with Harry and his friends to Madam Malkin's, but Molly would have none of it. She was nervous enough as it was to be in Diagon Alley without her husband, but Dumbledore had said a weekday was better to shop on than the weekend, when everybody would be there and much more chance of an ambush. After all, according to Molly, the household had received their letters a full day before anyone else would.

They spent a good half an hour browsing for the books they needed to get, and Harry had to remind himself that he was supposed to be under the impression that he couldn't take Potions anymore, as he shouldn't know that Snape wasn't teaching the class that year. Still, he ended up purchasing two potions books, neither the recommended one on the list, so he could pretend he was going to self-study the course and still take it at NEWT level. Hermione was proud, which was what he wanted because otherwise her nagging would be too much.

Finished with the bookshop for now, they went to Scribbulus—the stationery shop—Slug and Jiggers Apothecary, Madam Malkin's, Eeylops, and then finally they got to Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes.

Set against the dull, poster-muffled shop fronts around them, Fred and George's windows hit the eye like a firework display. Casual passersby were looking back over their shoulders at the windows, and a few rather stunned-looking people had actually come to a halt, transfixed. The left-hand window was dazzlingly full of an assortment of goods that revolved, popped, flashed, bounced, and shrieked; Harry's eyes began to water just looking at it. The right-hand window was covered with a gigantic poster, purple like those that the Ministry had put up on all the other shop fronts, but instead of being Azkaban posters or half-hearted attempts at telling people how to protect themselves, they were emblazoned with flashing yellow letters:

_Why Are You Worrying About You-Know-Who? You SHOULD Be Worrying About U-NO-POO—the Constipation Sensation That's Gripping the Nation!_

Harry started to laugh. He heard a weak sort of moan beside him and looked around to see Molly gazing, dumbfounded, at the poster. Her lips moved silently, mouthing the name _U-No-Poo_.

"They'll be murdered in their beds!" she whispered.

"No they won't!" said Ron, who, like Harry, was laughing. "This is brilliant!"

Harry hated to agree with Ron about anything, but in this, the whining git was correct. Voldemort, despite being out in the open now, could not afford to attack Diagon Alley in broad daylight. Sure, he'd had his followers take Florean Fortescue and Ollivander, but that had happened during the weekend, while all of his better Death Eaters were home from work. If he wanted to attack on a weekday, he'd either have to have it organised weeks beforehand, going on information he didn't know would still be accurate when the time came, or use himself, Bellatrix, Pettigrew, and a number of inexperienced and/or underage new Death Eaters.

Voldemort may be many things, but stupid, he was not. Indeed, he actually considered himself a tactical genius; he had always been fascinated with history, Muggle or magical, and when he'd been forced to stay in the Muggle world each summer, he'd paid attention to the tactics of the British and German armies. He'd read books on historical battles as well, and from that he'd formed his own theories and tactics by tying in his magical knowledge. Harry knew that the first option of organising a raid for months was far more likely than the second, but it was still incredibly unlikely because he considered the twins no more dangerous than a pair of fleas; annoying, but basically harmless. He likely knew they weren't in the Order, and his year living as a parasite on the back of Quirrell's head would have convinced him they simply liked being controversial. No, even something like this U-No-Poo product wouldn't make Voldemort target them.

As soon as they entered the shop, they could barely move out of the doorway due to the large number of people inside. Harry felt as though it was going to be very difficult to even get to the shelves, it was that packed.

On one large shelf, there were the Skiving Snackboxes that the twins had perfected during their last, unfinished year at Hogwarts; Harry noticed that the Nosebleed Nougat was most popular, with only one battered box left on the shelf. There were bins full of trick wands nearby, the cheapest merely turning into rubber chickens or pairs of underwear when waved, the most expensive beating the unwary user around the head and neck, and boxes of quills, which came in Self-Inking, Spell-Checking, and Smart-Answer varieties. A space cleared in the crowd, and Harry and his companions pushed his way toward the counter, where a gaggle of delighted ten-year-olds was watching a tiny little wooden man slowly ascending the steps to a real set of gallows, both perched on a box that read: Reusable hangman--spell it or he'll swing!

"Patented Daydream Charms," Hermione read off a nearby box. She had managed to squeeze through to a large display near the counter and was reading the information on the back of a box bearing a highly coloured picture of a handsome youth and a swooning girl who were standing on the deck of a pirate ship.

"One simple incantation and you will enter a top-quality, highly realistic, thirty-minute daydream, easy to fit into the average school lesson and virtually undetectable (side effects include vacant expression and minor drooling). Not for sale to under-sixteens," she finished, and looked at Harry. "You know, that really is extraordinary magic!"

"For that, Hermione," said a voice behind them, "you can have one for free."

A beaming Fred stood before them, wearing a set of magenta robes that clashed magnificently with his flaming hair.

"How are you, Harry?" he continued, shaking hands with him. "Come on, I'll give you a tour."

Harry left with Fred while George popped out of nowhere and took Fred's other side. He followed them toward the back of the shop, where he saw a stand of Muggle magic tricks on display. "They're not a big seller, but for people like dad who love Muggles, it's heaven," George said offhandedly.

"Have you thought about branching out and subtly making magical versions of Muggle technology?" Harry asked. "Like having mirrors which you can contact someone else with and seeing their face and talking to them? It would be amazing for the Order and Aurors so they can respond to people who are under attack."

"Funny you should mention the Aurors," Fred said as he pushed aside a curtain next to the magic tricks, letting Harry into an area with much less bright and nauseous packaging.

You wouldn't believe how many people, even people who work at the Ministry, can't do a decent Shield Charm," said George. "'Course, they didn't have you teaching them, Harry."

"That's right… Well, we thought Shield Hats were a bit of a laugh, you know, challenge your mate to jinx you while wearing it and watch his face when the jinx just bounces off. But the Ministry bought five hundred for all its support staff! And we're still getting massive orders!"

"So we've expanded into a range of Shield Cloaks, Shield Gloves..."

"... I mean, they wouldn't help much against the Unforgivable Curses, but for minor to moderate hexes or jinxes..."

"And then we thought we'd get into the whole area of Defense Against the Dark Arts, because it's such a money spinner," continued George enthusiastically. "This is cool. Look, Instant Darkness Powder, we're importing it from Peru. Handy if you want to make a quick escape."

"And our Decoy Detonators are just walking off the shelves, look," said Fred, pointing at a number of weird-looking black horn-type objects that were indeed attempting to scurry out of sight. "You just drop one surreptitiously and it'll run off and make a nice loud noise out of sight, giving you a diversion if you need one."

"Handy," said Harry, impressed.

"Here," said George, catching a couple and throwing them to Harry. "So you see, your little communications mirror idea is actually really great and in line with our DADA products thinking."

"Got any other ideas?" Fred asked, chucking Harry some Skiving Snackboxes and Patented Daydream Charms, which he caught and placed in his pouch.

Harry had been looking at the Shield products. "Add in some Anglo-Saxon rune sets here, here, and here, and then they'll probably be able to withstand moderate to heavy curses like powerful bombardas or piercing hexes," he said.

Their eyes were wide. "Really?" asked George.

"That would be brilliant! We'll look into that for sure," Fred said, excited for the research soon to come.

"As for other ideas, I can give you access to a pensieve," Harry said slowly, "and I suggest you go to a Muggle technology shop and take a look at televisions. Pensieves are incredibly expensive and rare, so if you make them more simple and just for viewing, not immersing, and make them not only compatible for memories, but also VHS tapes and laserdiscs, then that'll go a long way to slowly advancing our world, plus it'll be a big seller for the DMLE and Muggleborns."

The twins were now gaping at him, so he raised an eyebrow and waited for their brains to re-engage. After a minute, they simultaneously said, "Wicked!"

Harry was sure they had dollar signs in their eyes for a split second before they turned to each other and had a conversation with each other using expressions. Moments later, George said, "You know, Harry, we see you as our secret investor, and we are saving up to pay you back for your investment."

Harry started to object, but Fred cut him off by saying, "But what you just did isn't the work of a one-time investor. It was more like a partner."

"You showed that you were thinking about our future far beyond our ability to pay you back, and you know what our core values are and how much we love research and experimenting," George continued.

"So we want to make you a silent partner, with a sizeable amount of the company's earnings going directly to you. The only problem is that we have no idea how much a sizeable amount is," Fred finished.

Harry got a contemplative look on his face, then said, "How about somewhere between 30 and 35% of the company? It's not too much and not too little, since with how much business you seem to be doing, that amount wouldn't hurt you."

The twins communicated silently again before turning to him. "35%," they said at the same time, and Harry smiled.

"Done."

They both held out a hand to him, so he took Fred's hand in his left and George's in his right and shook them well. "We'll inform our account holder of this and make sure yours knows you have that stock in the company, yeah?" said George.

"Now look around for anything you like, and you'll get it for free, just tell us which things you have so we know what to restock," Fred insisted.

"You'll never have to pay us, Harry," George said when Harry started to protest again. "You're the only one who believed in us when the rest of our family didn't, and you allowed us to open up our store when we thought we wouldn't get to do it for years and years, especially with Voldemort back."

"Yeah, no one would have wasted money on an owl-order-only joke shop when they had to feed their terrified families," Fred explained. "Us having a store, in Diagon Alley no less, enables people to leave their kids here while they buy the necessities, and it lets kids get a break from their tense homes, all of which makes it more likely they'll buy something, even if it's only to seem polite or in thanks for looking after their kids when technically we're not a daycare centre."

Harry nodded solemnly. "I get it now, guys. Like I said when I gave you that money, the world could use a few laughs in the coming years. I stand by that."

The twins hugged him and led him out from the back so he could get back to the Weasleys and Hermione. With the trip to Diagon Alley done, the party exited through the Leaky Cauldron and into the waiting Ministry car. Truthfully, Harry had hoped to visit Knockturn Alley today as well, but apparently that wasn't going to happen. No matter, he'd go tonight, when the Alley was more active and less dangerous.

*

It was nearly ten by the time Harry managed to slip out of the Burrow, wearing a blond wig he'd impulse bought a few days before receiving Dumbledore's letter; it was always such a hassle going out and being immediately recognised as himself. As he was technically still underage and therefore unable to use magic, he had also equipped the new Beretta M9 with a silencer that Warmesh had procured for him and passed to him through their secure linked Gringotts box two days ago. He traipsed down the driveway and called the Knight Bus once at the end. The purple triple-decker bus came into existence in front of him with a _bang_ , and Stan Shunpike stepped off to begin his speech. However, Harry cut him off and said, "Here's the eleven sickles; I already know the prices. I'd like to go to the Leaky Cauldron, please."

"Oh… er, well then… take a seat then, yeah?" Stan said, thrown off his game and mildly confused.

"Thanks," Harry said, and claimed the closest bed available.

They departed with another _bang_ , and Harry was thrown back against the bed. From there, it took a few very long minutes to arrive in Diagon Alley. By the end of it, Harry was sure he was bruised all over, but he managed to exit the death trap without hobbling or wincing once, and then after he'd entered the Leaky Cauldron he cast a healing charm. With the extreme magical saturation of Diagon, it was impossible for the Ministry to detect underage magic; which was just as well, seeing as every eleven-year-old's magic reacted strongly each time they touched a wand that didn't choose them, and then again when they got the right one.

He strolled down the empty Alley and into Gringotts. The purse Molly had provided didn't have anywhere _near_ as much money as he might need for venturing down the darker wizarding alley, so he approached a bank teller and asked to have one thousand Galleons retrieved from his vault, and to speak to his account managers. The goblin complied and got one runner to fetch the gold and another to escort him to his managers. Entering a conference room, he smiled at the two goblins without showing teeth—it was a sign of respect and intent to do no harm for the goblins, and while he certainly didn't respect the greedy little creatures, he did fear what they might do if they decided they didn't like him; whole fortunes had been known to legally disappear from such occurrences.

"How goes the quest to obtain more wealth?" Harry asked as the runner left and closed the door.

Warmesh and Cragflesh both smiled in the same manner as Harry had at his small jest. The latter started the report. "The Black holdings are going well, and I have received word from your female elf that your properties are slowly but surely being cleansed of their former Dark creature problems, and they are being remodeled to your exact specifications."

Warmesh agreed, stating, "That is also the case with your Potter properties… well, other than the house in Godric's Hollow, which was demolished weeks ago and the land there is currently having a team of goblins build a Muggle house on it. We expect it will be done within the week, after which it will be rented out. We don't expect word to get out to the magical world until this approaching Halloween."

"Good, good," Harry said. "What about the excavation of old paperwork in my vault? From the letter you sent me a week ago I understand that more was found than was expected. Are there previously unseen, unpaid bills I need to take care of?"

The goblins looked at each other hesitantly. "Not on your part, exactly," Warmesh started.

Cragflesh picked up the conversation. "The previous Lord Black was a fugitive, and was therefore unable to do anything about the large debts that other families owed the House of Black. As you know, the Malfoys, Notts, and Parkinsons all live on Black property without paying rent as they should. If you were to call those debts due, all of them would be ruined financially, and you could legally take all their women from them and do what you will. You would effectively be removing most, if not all, of Voldemort's Pureblood financial backing in one fell swoop."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Do it," he said. "I want every female in the households contained in Goblin custody until my Hebrides mansion is up to specification, then move them there. Inform me when this is done. Also, I wish to purchase the three Knockturn Alley whorehouses outright. Once the mansion is complete, send all the whores there and put up 'closed for remodelling' signs. I want each storefront to become a portal to specific doors in the mansion, the ones I highlighted in the blueprint near the reception area."

The two goblins nodded, seeing where he was going with this. He continued. "As for the buildings themselves, I want them remodeled: one to become a warehouse, one a safe-house, and the smallest to become a safe-house and slave-smuggling establishment. This can be done?"

"Yes," Warmesh said, and Cragflesh nodded in agreement. Harry smiled again.

Warmesh went into the next thing on the agenda. "Several marriage contracts have been uncovered in your vault as well. One promising you both of the Patil daughters if you voted a certain way in a Wizengamot vote long gone. As it happens, Dumbledore voted that way without knowing what that meant for the two girls, so you can claim them any time you desire.

"Additionally," Cragflesh said, "The Greengrass Patriarch has requested that the longstanding alliance between themselves and the house of Potter might be extended to include you taking over guardianship of their four daughters, as he fears he may be threatened to turn them over to the Death Eaters—they have been sniffing around for new 'female entertainment' at revels and the beauty of his daughters is well-known."

"Send letters to both parties, the first stating that it is time to collect my dues and to have them be prepared to leave at any moment," Harry said. "Lord Patil must make the arrangements to pull them out of Hogwarts and say they are going back to India, but he will never be seeing them again as while they will be leaving the country, it will not be with him and his wife, but into hiding until the war is over. When will the Hebrides house be ready?"

"In about a week, Lord Potter," Warmesh said.

Harry nodded. "Good. Provide the Patil twins with remote-activated port-keys to the Hebrides mansion and give me the remote. In the letter to Lord Greengrass, tell him that for their own safety, his daughters will be moved out of the country, so he must withdraw those who attend Hogwarts from said school, and to cancel the applications for those of his daughters who are not attending yet. Assure him that they will all receive adequate schooling and will be able to work towards OWLs and NEWTs if they so desire. When the war is over, we shall see what the girls' desires are in regards to going back home or returning to Hogwarts. Give all four girls remote-activated port-keys to the Hebrides mansion and once again give me the remotes."

"It shall be done, Lord Potter," both goblins said simultaneously.

"Good. The only thing remaining is to ask about Hufflepuff's Cup. Was it found among the things moved into my vault from Bellatrix Lestrange's?"

"Yes, Lord Potter," Cragflesh said. "It was found and ritually destroyed. The soul fragment is dead."

"Excellent! Is there anything else requiring my attention at this time?" he asked.

"There is still the matter of other betrothal or marriage contract requests," Warmesh said.

"Send them to me through our private connection and I will look through them when I am able," Harry said.

All three bowed to each other and then Harry left for Knockturn after retrieving his sackful of Galleons from the teller he'd spoken to before.


	8. A Whorehouse of His Own

The place known as Knockturn Alley had long been considered Dark to its very core, filled to the brim with Dark witches and wizards, creatures too frightening to think about, and Dark objects that would kill you the second you looked at it. Typical Light wizard propaganda. If the average inbred light Pureblood couldn't use a certain spell or type of magic, then it was immediately outlawed. To compare it to the Muggle world, it was like a politician outlawing science because they sucked at chemistry when they were at school, or libraries and bookstores because they didn't like the idea of that one book that was coming out soon.

Yes, there were some genuinely bad people who lived and worked in Knockturn Alley, but they were few and far between. The true denizens of the Alley were magical creatures; Borgin was actually a magical creature known as a Jackdaw — a person who could naturally transform into the well-known bird their whole lives and had a tendency to hoard treasures — Burke was a Higher Ghoul — he was a ghoul who could disguise himself as a regular person but was still oddly repulsive in that form — and Harry knew that there was a small group of hags that lived above one of the cafes, who ran a business catering to all the hags in Britain, stealing bodies from cemeteries while the graves were still fresh. Similarly, there were the two shops, E.L.M and Wizards Undertakers & Embalmers, and Fledermaus and Tanner Bats & Skins, both of which were run by the main vampire coven of Britain and allowed them to gain access to blood without harming anyone alive, and a reliable income so they could buy necessary things..

There were two taverns in Knockturn: The Spiny Serpent and the White Wyvern. The first catered to those who considered themselves followers of the Dark Lord, and the second catered to creatures of every kind, although sometimes they overlapped because some creatures had been swayed to Voldemort's side in the last war.

The logical person would ask themselves why the Aurors didn't just perform a raid on the entire Alley, if it was known to be such a cesspool of Dark magic practitioners, or at the very least the Spiny Serpent? The truth was that the Dark families had managed to pass a bill early on in the first war, stating that the only places that could be raided were the personal residences of known or suspected criminals, meaning that the shops in Knockturn, which doubled as both shops and personal residences, were not able to be raided. The members of the Ministry took this to mean they couldn't even have an Auror presence in that Alley, for fear of it being called a raid. The members of the Ministry could never be called logical, or even remotely intelligent, for that matter.

As Harry strolled along the dark alley, he remembered who the third group of denizens of Knockturn were after a little boy who couldn’t have been older than six or seven scamper past him. The boy had no shoes, and his clothes were dirty rags which were fit for nothing but burning. Wizarding Britain’s entire collection of homeless people was relegated to living in the dirty, rubbish-filled, side-alleys of Knockturn. The boy’s appearance might as well have struck a physical blow on Harry, for although he considered himself better than everyone else, he also knew what it was to live without anything. Besides, he had quite a few plans he wanted to carry out, and he’d already started to work on his plan for Knockturn.

The first part of that was to get the whorehouses out of here —firstly, so he could profit from their customers, secondly, to get them out of the slums and into better housing, and thirdly, to decrease the number of homeless people present. His next letter to his account managers was going to contain permission to approach all the homeless people in Knockturn, and offer them work and lodging in one of his properties. The majority of the homeless were mudbloods, and while he planned on having the females join his growing ranks of whores, the males were to be labourers or scientists, and most of the children would either be adopted by wizarding families or placed in the magical orphanage he was going to start. He wanted to drag Wizarding Britain into the twentieth century, kicking and screaming if necessary. Ideally, the scientists would attempt to meld technology and magic, starting with revolutionising magical medicine by introducing the concepts of defibrillators and pills. Of course, he needed to take into account that there may be intelligent females among the homeless, or perhaps whole families, so he would be doing things on a case-by-case basis.

He had three soon-to-be empty Pureblood manors at his disposal. Malfoy Manor would become his primary research centre, as Voldemort had known that the potions laboratories there were among the finest in the country, Parkinson Manor would become a farmhouse, its lands devoted to magical and Muggle livestock, and Nott Manor would end up a large-scale plant nursery, growing everything from rare potions ingredients to daisies and roses. A little market stall in Diagon would come first, selling flowers and potted potions ingredients, then a shop selling the same, and then a similar one in Hogsmeade. The whole time, customers would be told that if they wanted a bigger variety, they could just come to the nursery itself. Similarly, he would open a greengrocer’s in Diagon Alley, and a butcher’s in Horizont Alley. Additionally, he wanted to open two little bakeries, one in Diagon Alley and another in Hogsmeade, and have them be friendly competition with each other. With him owning both establishments, it was a win-win situation.

His musings came to a halt when he saw his feet had taken him to Borgin and Burke’s. It was the only place in the Alley that Harry had been to before, and Voldemort had worked there for a few years after graduation, so his body had gone on autopilot to get to his desired destination. He opened the door and a little bell rang in the depths of the dark shop. Harry disregarded the sound of scraping coming from Mr Burke as he made his way to the front of the shop and towards the customer. Harry was far too fascinated with the things being sold in the shop. The last time he’d been here, he’d been too naïve and terrified to really have a look around. His magical senses were going haywire, what with every other thing in the store being enchanted or cursed. Most of them were simple things, like a bag that would constantly feel five kilograms heavier than it should, or a wizard's pointed hat that waited until you had worn it for exactly 20 minutes before your head would get horribly itchy, but there were darker, more impressive things for sale. An opal necklace, for example, that would torture and kill anyone who touched it and had already claimed the lives of nineteen Muggles, a glass eye that would show you what anyone was doing, so long as you spoke their full name and there was a reflective surface somewhere in the room that could see them, a hangman’s noose which would allow the owner to seduce anyone they desired so long as the owner kept a piece of it in their pocket.

Finally, there was what Harry had originally come for: the Vanishing Cabinet. Its aura was exactly the same as that of the broken one in the Room of Requirement, and the two were identical down to the runic engravings on the hinges. Harry fondly remembered Sir Nicholas telling him that he’d convinced Peeves to smash it right above Filch’s office, allowing Harry to get out of trouble after he’d been ‘caught’ trudging mud into the castle after a particularly wet Quidditch practice.

When Burke appeared, Harry said, "Good evening, Burke. I'm after a few of your products."

"And what would those be?" the ghoul asked suspiciously. Harry supposed he wasn't quite used to the extra business from Voldemort supporters yet and was still suspicious of anyone wearing a face-obscuring black cloak.

"This cabinet, that noose, that necklace, that glass eye, plus every book you have in the shop," Harry said. "Price is of no concern."

Burke's eyes were wide in surprise as he followed where Harry's finger pointed to each of the things mentioned. "Are you sure? Some of those things are equipped with quite the curse, and some of them are already slated to be sold to the young Mister Malfoy for his task to kill Dumbledore. He was here a few days ago asking for some things to do that with."

Well that was a surprise. He knew the weak little shit though, he didn't have the guts to go through with it, and Harry wanted to kill the old goat for himself. He nodded as though he'd already known about this task Draco had been given, then said, "Firstly, Draco is not a Malfoy any more, the marriage between his parents was annulled by the new Black Lord, so he's nothing but a bastard now. Secondly, he and his family have found themselves destitute a few days ago, so you would never be paid for the objects he wanted if he came here for the transaction himself. That is why I am here, I can buy the objects he wanted and pass them on to him, while also acquiring some things I desire. Were there any objects he wanted that I missed?"

"I had no idea!" Burke said. "Do you know how it happened?"

"No, they woke up to a Gringotts letter saying everything they owned is now not theirs any more," Harry said, knowing they would wake up to exactly that tomorrow. Well, that and goblin warriors storming in and carting them off to goblin imprisonment.

"Very strange," The other man muttered as he floated all the small objects asked for, plus the hand of glory, and placed them on the counter where they began to wrap themselves in individual packages. "I assume you'll be wanting the cabinet left here like the boy wanted?"

"No, he's had a change of heart regarding that. He would like me to shrink it and take it with me. More control over the outcome of his little… project, I take it."

"Ah, fair enough. Well then, shrink at your leisure, sir. How do you want to take these packages?"

"In my pouch," Harry said as he shrunk the cabinet and put it in his mokeskin pouch, then followed it up with the packages. He deposited the needed money plus a bit extra on the counter and walked out.

The rest of his journey through the Alley went rather nicely. He went to Fledermaus and Tanner Bats & Skins and brought out some of the basilisk hide he'd taken from the rendered great snake in the Chamber. The vampires had been extremely excited by the sight and had received a quarter of all the hide he had in return for being made some basilisk-hide armour, so long as the skin they received was only used for armour for their own coven. They agreed, and Harry left with both a form-fitting, flexible, bodysuit of the stuff so he could wear it under his normal clothes, and a full set of heavier armour complete with helmet that made him look like a dragon rider when he wore it.

Next was Cobb & Webb's, a potions shop, in which he bought a strong binding potion and a lust potion. Then it was on to Dystyl Phaelanges to buy the skull of a wizard who had died with his eyes open. After exiting from the shop that was full to the brim with bones from all sorts of creatures, he took the Knight Bus back to the Burrow. He successfully snuck inside and up to Ron's room without waking anyone up, then retreated inside the last compartment of his trunk to deposit his latest purchases.

Nymph came crawling towards him as soon as he entered, and Harry kicked her away from him when she was about to get in his way. She whimpered but stood up and took his cloak off for him, then knelt before him. He allowed her to take his shoes and socks off, then put most of the things he'd bought into a cabinet that only he could open. The only things remaining out of the cabinet were the two potions and the hangman's noose, and he took out the other two nooses that he'd found in the Room of Requirement what seemed like ages ago. He walked to his potions equipment area and pulled out two cauldrons, then placed one vial into each of them.

He turned to Nymph who was on her knees next to him and handed her the three hangman's nooses. "Separate the fibres of each of these, but keep the fibres in groups respective of their former nooses. Do you know how to make friendship bracelets?"

Nymph nodded and Harry continued. "Good. Then start making friendship bracelets in a flat braid style, using three strands only, one from each noose pile. Make as many as you can using the supplies you have, and at the end of each day, place the ones you made that day in the binding potion. They need to soak in it for twelve hours, then take them out and transfer them to the lust potion to soak for a further twelve hours. You are to take adequate time each day to rest, eat, and care for Cow. Do you understand your instructions?"

"Yes, Master," Nymph said.

"Good. You may start tomorrow. For now, stand up and bend over that desk."

"Yes, Master."

*

The week passed by slowly as weeks where you're bored out of your mind usually do. There was  _ nothing _ to do at the Burrow, but not one of the red-haired people in the house seemed to mind. Molly was content with her constant cooking, baking, and cleaning up after her spawn, Arthur seemed to relish the peace and quiet after his usually hectic work days, as did Bill, Ron was happy to play chess against himself or fly in the orchard with Ginny, who otherwise liked working in the garden. On the other hand, Fleur was getting more and more quiet by the day as she didn't hear any word from her parents and little sister, who had left for Australia for the duration of the war, Hermione was bored from reading the same books over and over again, and Harry just wanted to kill everyone.

Well, not everyone. Hermione was becoming more compliant by the day since he'd gifted her with the first bracelet Nymph had made; she didn't know that she was bound to him as long as he carried a piece of the three nooses with him in the form of another bracelet which wasn't soaked in potions. Harry hadn't wanted her behaviour to change so quickly and noticeably, so he'd stitched runes for slow changes and submissiveness into her bracelet. If he'd given her a bracelet without the runes, she would have immediately been fully submissive towards, and constantly horny for, the wearer of the untainted bracelet, himself.

Also, he didn't want to kill his slaves. They were carrying his children, after all. Maybe after a few children each he'd get rid of them, but for now they were the only slaves he had, and he liked having them there to fuck as hard as he wanted.

Finally though, the week had passed and Harry's Hebrides mansion was finished to his specifications, and one night at eight he put everyone to sleep and took his new portkey to the edge of the property so he could view it in its entirety. Before him was a long gravel driveway, on either side were meticulous yet colourful Victorian-style gardens. The driveway led to an enormous English Baroque manor with three floors at the highest. It had one wing on either side with only two floors, giving it a very balanced and regal look with its cream exterior and green shingle roofs.

He had an unhurried stroll down the driveway until he got to the front door. As soon as his fingers grasped the door handle, his Black ring flashed once and the door opened inwards, letting him see an enormous entryway with marble floors and columns, and an antique desk sat in the centre of the room with a comfortable desk chair behind it. The door he entered through shimmered out of existence behind him and was replaced with an enormous painting of some sort. Harry didn't care for art so he didn't bother to see what it was other than an old wooden ship of some sort in a storm.

Now that the main doors had disappeared, there were three doors and two large archways leading from the room. The doors were portals to each of the three whorehouses he'd purchased, and the archways led to different wings of the manor. The east wing would contain the whores who were only there for pleasure. Each whore would have her own set of rooms, with an entertaining room, a bedroom only she and Harry could enter, a bathroom, and a kitchenette with a table for two. The west wing, on the other hand, would have the breeding stock. It would have the same setup as the east wing, except it would also have a small nursery added to each whore's set of rooms, where she would keep her baby until it was weaned, then if it met the father's criteria would be given to him and she would have a new customer; if not, then the baby would be taken to the other building on the grounds to be raised and bred back into society as a bastard, and the father would impregnate her again.

Harry set down his bottomless bag of friendship charms on the desk, got out a pen and a legal pad from his mokeskin pouch, and sat on the chair. Then, he pressed the warning rune on the two Patil portkeys. He waited for exactly five minutes, as discussed in his letter to Lord Patil, then activated the portkeys. Padma and Parvati Patil appeared before him, crying and clutching each other, as well as holding a trunk each.

Their tears turned to sniffles as they started to look around the room in curiosity despite their situation. When they spotted him, they walked up to the desk. He had written down their first names, and when they approached him, he put down his pen. "Hello Padma, Parvati. Welcome to your new home for the time being."

"Where are we?" asked Parvati.

"A manor on one of the Hebrides islands," he answered. "Totally safe and unable to be found by anyone who doesn't already know if its existence. The perfect place to hide out the war."

"Why did you split us up from our parents then? Aren't they in trouble as well?" Padma asked, always the more astute of the two.

"Yes, but they decided to go back to India until the war is over. They had heard whispers that you two were desired as entertainment for the Death Eaters, and they feared they would have followed you all to India to kidnap you two, so they chose to protect you like this." He sighed sadly. "I tried to tell them that they were welcome here as well, but your father had already made arrangements."

The twins were looking rather depressed now, so he took out two bracelets, one red and the other yellow. "These have strong protective enchantments and a tracking charm on them, and also act as an emergency portkey. Please, wear them at all times."

They accepted them quickly, with Padma taking the yellow and Parvati the red, and as soon as they had fastened them correctly, their eyes dulled and they stood still. "What are your middle names?" Harry asked.

"Kalya," Parvati said.

"Nina," Padma said.

Harry wrote them down next to their respective first names, then followed that up with their last names. After some more questions, their entries looked like so:

**_Parvati Kalya Patil. Born 12 March 1980 (16). Gryffindor. Virgin._ **

**_Padma Nina Patil. Born 12 March 1980 (16). Ravenclaw. Virgin._ **

This was the sort of information that he was going to record for each of the whores he would have. He would also add the number of children they'd had, as well as whether those children were magical or not. Any Squib children would be raised to their breeding ages, then bred with magically powerful witches or wizards, and when one or two magical children had been born from that union, they would be neutered and become a pleasure whore, if female, or a labourer, if male.

"Put your trunk down and strip completely," he said, and got out his camera as they followed his orders without hesitation. He took a picture of each of them, then one of them together with their hands around each other's waists, and called for Winky. "You know what to do, my dear."

"Yes, sir!" the little elf squeaked. She clicked her fingers, vanishing the trunks to the girls' rooms, then led the new whores to their rooms.

With that done, Harry moved on to the four Greengrass portkeys and put them on warning mode.

The Greengrass girls took longer to reassure than the Patil twins had, but even so, it only took ten minutes before they had their bracelets on and were therefore under his control. Then he moved on to the former lady Malfoy, now Narcissa No-Name, whom he had to stun as she was too worked up and angry. She, along with Lady Nott and Lady Parkinson would be the first of the breeding whores. The young Nott girl and the two Parkinson daughters were led to the pleasure whore wing for now.

Nothing was going to happen to any of the heiresses until he decided whether he wanted to fuck and/or impregnate any of them first, then he would open it up to his customers. If someone wanted one of the pleasure whores to carry his child, and said whore was fertile, then she would be moved to the west wing and he could fuck her until she was. Once she had given birth to an acceptable heir and weaned them, she would move back to the west wing and continue her pleasure whore duties.

After the last of the aristocratic women and girls had been escorted out of the room, his list had these additions:

**_Daphne Amaranth Greengrass. Born 7 December 1979 (16). Slytherin. Virgin._ **

**_Astoria Rowan Greengrass. Born 12 June 1982 (14). Slytherin. Virgin._ **

**_Eliette Maire Greengrass. Born 27 February 1985 (11). Virgin._ **

**_Lacey Carmen Greengrass. Born 5 February 1987 (9). Virgin._ **

**_Narcissa Celeste No-Name (formerly Malfoy, neé Black). Born 2 April 1955 (41). Slytherin. Mother of 1 wizard (Draco, born 1981)._ **

**_Amanda Judith Nott, neé Fawley. Born 7 July 1969 (27). Ravenclaw. Mother of 1 witch (Mallory, born 1989). Stepmother to Theodore Nott, born 1981._ **

**_Mallory Jane Nott. Born 15 March 1989 (7). Virgin._ **

**_Priscilla Catherine Parkinson, neé Flint. Born 16 July 1961 (35). Slytherin. Mother of 2 witches (Pansy, born 1982, & Portia, born 1986)._ **

**_Pansy Beatrice Parkinson. Born 5 February 1982 (16). Slytherin. Not virgin._ **

**_Portia Candace Parkinson. Born 17 January 1986 (10). Virgin._ **

While Harry didn't think he'd touch those under about nine or ten, it didn't mean others wouldn't want to. He didn't care what his customers wanted, so long as it was within reason, like no dead people and no one under the age of… say… 10. He knew it was probably heartless of him, but he honestly didn't see his whores as human—once they put on those bracelets, they were his, and they became nothing but objects for pleasure and breeding.

Next, he would call in the whores he'd acquired when he had bought the three whorehouses in Knockturn Alley. He was in for a long night already with just these, so he thought he'd wait until early tomorrow night to call all of the homeless people here and sort them into families, scientists, labourers, whores, and children under 7.

It was going to be hard work, but wasn't that the case with everything worth doing?


	9. The Proposal

Harry knew that what he wanted to do ever since he changed into what he was now was incredibly immoral and illegal, but he couldn't help himself. Although, really, why would he want to? He liked what he liked, and therefore he couldn't help that he liked making girls cower and hurt. His next project was the submission and conversion of Daphne and Astoria Greengrass. Astoria was a tiny slip of a girl with delicate features, wispy blonde hair, and sky blue eyes. She was fourteen years old, and seemed to be the exact opposite of her older sister in every way. If Astoria was day, then Daphne was night, as she had ebony hair down to her arse and a beautiful pair of the most violet eyes he'd ever seen. She was breathtaking, and he wanted her—no, he wanted both of them.

It was currently dawn on a Saturday, and there were only three weeks and one day remaining until Harry had to go back to Hogwarts. He had come up with a plan that would allow him to spend the day in Hebrides, and with those two girls. First things first, he sent Hedwig with a letter to the twins, saying that he needed their help to get out of the Burrow for the day as he had business at Gringotts and he didn't know how long it would take.

He waited with bated breath for a reply, but the hours slipped by and no owl in the orange-streaked sky. All too soon, he could hear Molly start to clang and bang around in her kitchen as the scents of breakfast wafted up to his nose. He miserably started down the stairs, but ran into Hermione who was fresh out of the shower, flushed from the hot water and barely covered by a shabby white towel.

"Hi Harry," she said, and kissed him.

"Hi, love," Harry returned. "Well don't you look particularly… _wet_ this morning."

Hermione blushed at Harry's tone. "You know very well that showering includes using water, which makes people wet."

Harry pushed her gently against the wall, placed his hands on the wall on either side of her head, and whispered, "I bet you were masturbating in the shower."

She blushed harder and tried to look away, but Harry nudged her chin back so she was looking at him again. "Were you thinking about me? Did you finger-fuck your sweet little pussy in the shower and wish it was me?"

"H-Harry…" she said in a tiny voice, "stop, someone will hear."

His right hand reached down, under her towel, while he let his magic put a silencing ward around them. When he touched her pussy, she gasped and closed her eyes. "Are you sure you want me to stop?" he asked as his finger started circling around her clit. "Because I can, you know, but I don't think you really want me to. You like it when I take control, when I whisper filthy words in your ear, don't you, my little slut?"

Hermione whimpered, the programming that she didn't know she had surfacing properly for the first time as Harry whispered the phrase he'd planted in her mind: little slut. It had taken a far shorter time to get to this point than he had thought it would originally, which he was very pleased with. It had started out with implanted dreams where he was sexually dominating her in every way, and he would make her wake up nearly screaming in pleasure. Next came the masochistic dreams, where he slowly reprogrammed her nerves to react to pain with pleasure. In each of those dreams, he would refer to her only by the phrase 'little slut', and judging by the witch in front of him, it had worked perfectly and was more successful than he'd ever thought it would be. Now, with the hot and wet pussy before him, he had made her fully his.

He cast a wandless contraception charm on her, freed his cock from his sleep pants, and fucked her harder than ever before. Hermione responded by moaning and pulling him in tighter, squeezing her legs around his waist. Harry hammered into her snatch and, even though he hadn't cared about her pleasure this time, he felt her come twice before he flooded her hole with cum. He cleaned himself up with a wave of his hand, then said, "I want you to not clean up that cum until after midday, okay my little slut?"

"Yes, Master," she replied, like in her dreams.

"Good girl. Hermione, go get changed, yeah?"

Her name snapped her back to reality, and immediately her blush was back full force as she remembered everything she had just done, even as she accepted the new shift in their relationship from normal lovers to her being his slut without question. Once again, she said, "Yes, Master," before she hurried off to her room to do as told, hopefully before Ginny woke up.

By breakfast, Harry was getting antsy. Hedwig hadn't returned, so he had no way of knowing whether the twins had even received his letter. Happily, just as Molly had served him a plate full of eggs, bacon, and hash, the Floo activated and two identical red-heads tumbled out. "Fred! George! I didn't know you were coming!" exclaimed Molly as she gave them a hug.

"We just wanted to pop in," George said.

"Maybe get a bit of breakfast along the way," Fred winked at his mum.

"And then leave with our little extra brother!" George said, clapping Harry on the shoulder. Harry pretended to look confused.

"We have a little project that we want him to help with, little model dragons like the one he got in the first task of the tournament," Fred said.

"As the first products in our new line of children's toys," George continued.

"And just how can Harry help?" asked Molly, confused.

"The Hungarian Horntail. We don't know if it needs more spikes," Fred said.

Molly blinked. "Oh. Harry, what do you think?"

Harry shrugged. "Sure, I'll help I guess. I've already finished all my homework so if it takes all day I won't be in trouble for unfinished homework."

"Good man!" said George.

"Absolutely spiffing!" Fred agreed.

Harry had finished his breakfast at that point, so stood and said, "Shall we go, then? Thanks for breakfast, Molly."

"Yes!" George cried. "Let us embark on our adventure!"

"The most adventure-y adventure to ever be adventured!" Fred cried.

Molly simply shook her head and whispered to Harry, "Probably be a good idea to have lunch at the Leaky Cauldron rather than their apartment, dear."

Harry grinned and agreed before following the twins through the Floo and disappearing in a ball of green fire. When he emerged in Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, Fred and George were laughing happily at a bunch of miniature dragon toys which were flouncing around and breathing fake flames at each other before tussling like cats who had the 'kitty crazies'.

"More spikes, huh?" Harry asked.

George waved him off. "We were woken up at the crack of dawn by Hedwig screeching like a banshee. Your owl can be very annoying, do you know that?"

Harry put on a sheepish face. "Sorry. I thought she would wait until you were awake."

"No problem," Fred said. "Whatever it is you want to do today, it's clearly important. Go on, do you need the Floo or are you walking?"

"Walking," Harry replied, "it's only just down the street. Bye guys."

"Bye!" the twins said as they waved him off.

Harry pulled up his hood and walked quickly to Gringotts, and asked to see the Potter vault. After the cart ride, he handed the young goblin the key and stepped inside the vault once it was open. The place was incredibly organised and clean for being untouched for a decade and a half, but he put that down to goblin magic and the fact that even though Dumbledore had been able to transfer money out of his vault, not even Griphook had been able to get him inside it.

He walked down the rows of family heirlooms, stopping every once in a while to admire some piece of furniture or another, until he got to the family wands. There were at least twenty wands there, each looking beautiful in its own way. He hovered his hand over each of them and discovered that one was acting very positively towards him. He picked it up and there was a burst of dark red sparks from the tip as it bonded to him. He read the attached tag, which said, _Emmanuel Linden Potter, 1285-1402_.

Interesting. He'd have to get the family history book he'd seen earlier and check out this particular ancestor.

He pocketed the wand, along with two of the wand holsters which were lying next to the wand section, and quickly moved on to the jewellery section, aware of how much more time he'd already spent here than he'd wanted to. He gave a cursory look through the jewellery available and spotted a ring that looked appropriate. It consisted of a thin, dark platinum band with three gems on it: a small, oval-cut D-flawless diamond was on either side of an oval cut emerald, with the emerald being a bit bigger than the diamonds.

He placed the ring in its accompanying box, which went into his mokeskin pouch, and then left the vault for the surface. Once outside, he went to the nearest Apparition point and apparated to Hermione's house. Luckily, it was still early enough in the morning for both of her parents to still be at home. There were no wards or magic of any kind present in the house, so Harry just strolled right in, after blanketing the property in a silencing ward and putting on some gloves.

Her mother seemed to be in the kitchen, humming as she waited for the kettle to boil, and her father was seated at the table, reading today's paper. He stunned both of them, first the man, then the woman, and headed upstairs. He took all the jewellery they had and opened the safe in their room for the man's handgun, then went downstairs to take the wedding rings from their fingers and diamond earrings from her ears, and then took their wallets. He woke up Hermione's father and immediately used the imperius on him and had him write down all of his bank details, then made him move into the position he wanted, which was sitting at the table, reading the paper. Harry then shot the man in the head at point blank range, causing blood, bone, and brain matter to go flying. Then, he rennervated Hermione's mother and had her write down _her_ bank details, and moved her so that it looked like she was running away to call for help, then shot at her three times before he managed to hit her.

It was a shame, really, to kill her. She was a very good-looking woman, and he would have loved to keep her as a sex slave, but it was not to be. She was a Muggle, so he couldn't just give her a bracelet and be done with it since hangman's rope worked by compelling the wearer's magic to obey the master's wishes. He supposed he could have chained her to a bed and leave it at that, but he never would have gotten any customers for her because of her Muggle status. The only thing he could see happening was purebloods trying her once because they were curious, like how some muggles were about what it would be like to fuck an animal or something. No, better to just kill her and leave it at that.

Lastly, he left via the back door, locked it, and then kicked it down again to show that it was the point of entry. Finally, he disassembled the wards and apparated to the Hebrides mansion. He didn't think it would take more than a few hours before someone checked the house, and he knew that the policemen wouldn't be able to find Hermione so would believe she'd been kidnapped. He didn't really care, though.

"Winky," Harry called. The little elf popped in and he handed her the papers with the bank details. "Escort Daphne and Astoria Greengrass to the Master bedroom, and take these to the Potter Account Manager in Gringotts and tell him I said to drain them dry."

"Yes, Master," the elf squeaked before she popped away to do his bidding. Until Harry got a receptionist or two, he couldn't open the mansion to customers, and he was forced to pull Winky away from her jobs to run the place. He didn't think it would be a problem for much longer, though, because he had already put out an ad in the Daily Prophet; he would start interviewing in a week.

Harry made his way to his bedroom and sat down in the leather wingback armchair by the fireplace. There was a knock on the door, to which he said, "Enter!"

The two girls opened the door and walked in. "Stand before me, my dears," Harry said, and they did as told. Their naked bodies were practically glowing in the early morning light, but their expressions were blank, emotionless. He didn't like that. "You may retain your emotions and personalities, but you will still obey my every order."

There was an instant change, with both girls appearing frightened at their naked state and their unfamiliar surroundings. Much better. Harry stood up and said, "Undress me."

They did as told with trembling hands, and when Harry was as naked as they were, he went to the bed, pulling the girls along, and sat on the bed with his back leaning on the headboard. The girls were standing by the bed at the moment, but Harry gestured to Daphne. "Come here, sit on my lap, facing me." He turned to Astoria, "Watch us."

The raven-haired girl sat on his lap, trembling in fear, and Harry smiled. He imagined that if he'd had a twin sister, she would have looked very much like Daphne did, and it excited him more than had thought it would. His cock stirred, and Daphne froze. Harry chuckled lightly and brought her hand to meet his mostly soft cock for the first time. "This is my cock, Daphne. I know you've never touched or even seen one before, so I'll explain how it works. It's very interesting, because the more you stroke and touch it, the bigger and harder it gets. When it's as big and hard as it can be, I like to use it to fuck girls senseless. Do you understand?"

Daphne whimpered and closed her eyes, but nodded hesitantly. "Good. Now, we're going to start off slowly, we don't want to overwhelm you, after all."

Harry was counting on the fact that pureblood witches were kept as innocent as possible until they had their first period, and even then were rarely told anything worthwhile until they came of age. He grinned when Daphne shuddered and went more pale than she already was. "Good. Well then, slowly slide forward and backward on my lap, and make sure my cock is touching your pussy all the time."

Daphne did as told, blushing as she slid her virgin pussy lips up and down his hardening cock as Harry directed her hips with his gentle hands. When Harry was fully hard and aching, he said, "Lie on the bed, tummy up, and spread your legs."

She did as told, and Harry went down on her, gently opening her petals and licking her clit until it was nice and wet. Harry was already rock-hard by now, but he knew he couldn't rush this, so he used his index finger to tease at her hole, massaging her muscles and causing it to slowly let more of him in. He didn't stop licking her the entire time, and although she had frozen again when he had first started with his finger, she had started unconsciously bucking against his fingers even as tears started to flow down her cheeks.

He sat up against the headboard again. "Come here."

Daphne did as told, and sat on his lap again, pale and shaking at the conflicting feelings of pleasure from his fingers and mouth, and horror and disgust at the rape and her lack of free will. He took his cock in hand and lifted her up above it, then guided her down, slowly forcing himself inside her until most of his cock was engulfed in an absolutely gorgeous tight pussy. The tip of his cock was resting against her cervix, and she had a brainless expression of shock on her face. She was so light that Harry was able to simply lift her up and down as he fucked her, and it wasn't long before she went into a full body shudder as she experienced her first orgasm. He came when she did, as her pussy had clenched on his shaft so completely, so lovingly, that his end came before he even knew it. His load, however, didn't have any space inside her, and only a small portion managed to get through her cervix, so the rest rushed out and coated her arse and his cock and thighs.

Harry gently pushed the spent girl off of him and observed that Astoria was a little green. "Lick it off me, then her," Harry said, and watched as she looked disgusted but did as he said. Harry enjoyed watching her have no choice but to debase herself by cleaning off her own sister and her rapist, and the tears in her eyes spoke testament to her hatred of her task.

Astoria was, essentially, perfect material to get turned into a forced humiliation whore, she looked so angelic when cleaned up that Harry couldn't help but want to ruin her completely, then clean her up and start all over again. Daphne, on the other hand, looked like a fallen angel, and her looks tempted him so much he had to fuck her. It was only his desire to mindfuck her into loving him that made him treat her gently, though, and with the lack of any birth control charms she would be pumping out as many babies as she was physically able to.

Once Astoria had finished cleaning him, she turned to the still in shock Daphne and started cleaning her thighs and cunt. Harry started to stimulate her clit as she did so, causing her to stiffen but shiver with sensation. Harry pushed inside the younger Greengrass sister, but this time more harshly than he had with Daphne. Astoria cried out in pain, but couldn't stop her ordered actions. Daphne, being stimulated even more after her first orgasm, simply whimpered and went into full body shudders.

Harry finished inside Astoria with a grunt and sat back watching in amusement as her ministrations on Daphne made the latter girl wetter, and Astoria couldn't stop unless Daphne was clean so she had to continue. After a few minutes, Harry said, "Astoria, stop. Come here."

She did as told, her face covered in her sister's cum and looking close to tears. Harry pulled her over his lap and gave her two hard slaps on each arse cheek, making her cry. "That's for not being able to do as told. I expect you to practice on all my slaves in my trunk, which is where you two will be living for the next while. You watched when I made your sister wet, so you know how to do it. I want you to practice making each of my slaves orgasm, then clean them up with minimal stimulation. Do you understand,?"

"Y-yes, Master," the girl sniffled.

"Good," Harry smiled, then pushed her off and went to his discarded clothes and pulled his miniature trunk out of his mokeskin pouch before returning it to the proper size. "Get in there, you two. I have a girl to get engaged to."

The two girls entered his slave compartment, and Harry minimised it, put it in his pouch, and then got dressed. He exited the mansion and apparated back to Diagon Alley, where he went into Fred and George's store again. "Hey guys," Harry called out, then had to duck out of the way as a kamikaze Chinese Fireball swooped at him.

"Hey, Harry!" Fred said as he ambled around the corner and caught the Fireball easily.

"How did it go?" George called from the opposite side of the store. "Ouch! The Antipodean Opaleye won't let go of my hair, Fred!"

"Tap it on the nose," Fred suggested back at his twin. "It startles them enough so you can pick them up."

"It went pretty well, I went to Gringotts and found a ring for Hermione, then got her parents' permission to ask for her hand in marriage. Do you two want to come to the Burrow to watch?" Harry asked.

Fred's eyes were alight with joy. "Harry, I didn't even know you two were together, let alone ready for such a big step. I'm so happy for you guys!"

"Me too!" came George's voice. Then, "Ouch, it's got my finger!"

Fred rolled his eyes and sighed. "Excuse me for a moment."

Ten minutes and a swarm of nasty little dragon toys later, the three Flooed back to the Burrow as Harry explained the Muggle concept of twist tying toys to cardboard frames to stop them from being stolen or moved out of their positions. They arrived at the Burrow just as lunch was starting up, and Harry strode over to Hermione before dropping down on one knee. "Hermione, my darling love, I know that we haven't been together very long, and that some people might say that we're going too fast, but I love you with all of my heart and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I've been to your house this morning and asked your parents for their blessing to ask you for your hand in marriage. Will you marry me?"

Fleur, Molly, and Ginny gasped behind him, and he could see Ron wasn't happy, but most of his focus was on her. She had tears in her eyes and her hands over her mouth as she stared at the ring he was holding out to her. She was frozen in that position for a whole second before she was out of her chair and in his arms. "Oh, Harry! Yes! Definitely yes! I can't believe you went to my parents! Is that what you really left for this morning?"

Harry laughed and slid the ring onto her finger. "Yes. I owled Fred and George this morning asking for their help, and then I went to Gringotts, found this ring in my vault, and took the Knight Bus to yours. They were still having breakfast, and after we talked for a bit, they gave me their blessing."

Hermione smiled through her happy tears, and he heard one of the women sniffle behind him. "I love you," she said.

"Forever and always," Harry agreed.


	10. Epilogue: Ending of Monsters, by a Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter, an epilogue, is here. Thank you to everyone who liked and commented on my work, and all 111k of my readers across my three profiles on here, adult-fanfiction.org, and hpfanficarchive. This is my shortest chapter, unfortunately, and not everyone will like the way I end it, but I felt this was the only way my Harry could end things and still live up to Dragen's Slave challenge ending.

Harry had been having fun for the past three weeks. Hermione was all over him when they were out in public, but respectfully submissive when they were alone. He had shown her his collection of slaves a week ago, and she had been horrified at first. Then, he'd backhanded her and stood over her cowering form. "Little slut, you mean nothing to me," he said, lacing his voice with magic and pushing his commands into her brain. "All you are is a cover for my illegal activities, but that won't stop you from loving me; nothing will. You will worship me for the rest of your life, and while I may hurt you, sometimes more than you think you can bear, you will never leave me. I will never _let_ you leave me… not alive, anyway. You are superior to my slaves, but only in terms of your privileges as my fiancee, and then wife. You may not ever speak to, or communicate in any other way with them.

Harry started to pace in front of her as he laid down the law. "You will receive an allowance to purchase anything superficial you want, such as clothes, shoes, manicures, hairdos, accessories, and massages, so long as you portray the image of the faithful, carefree wife of a rich Lord of multiple houses. You will never have a job, instead you will take care of my slaves, my children, and my pets.

"While in school, you must still achieve your normal standard of grades, and I expect you to talk to McGonagall about Ron's, Malfoy's, and Parkinson's behaviour last year as prefects. Especially since Parkinson will not be found anywhere on the train to do her rounds. If you can, get at least Ron demoted—Neville would do far better as prefect now he's got some courage. Act happy and loving when in public or when anyone who isn't in the know might overhear, and submissive to me when not. You may even express some of your well-known bossiness when in public. In addition, I expect you to be on the lookout for any girls or women you think may be of interest to me, and if I give my permission, you are to pull them in and make them receptive to me. When you think they're ready, get a hangman's bracelet and give it to them."

Harry, now finished with his speech, took her chin in his hand and made her look at him. "Do you understand, little slut?"

"Yes, master," she said in a small voice.

"Good," he said, "because you see, I worked very hard to brainwash you the way I did, slowly revealing the whore buried deep within you. Now… well, now you’re not a person, are you? You’re just a collection of fuckoles, and you’ll never feel more at peace with what you are than when you're on your knees, my cock down your throat, balls slapping against your chin while you powerlessly look up at me. That is your future. Well, that and being the vapid blonde bimbo on my arm when I have an event to go to. Get used to the idea and you may find peace with it eventually."

*

Today was the day they returned to Hogwarts, and Harry was happily excited. The plan for the day was to go on the Express, endure the Welcoming Feast, and then sneak out of Hogwarts after everyone had gone to bed. Tonight was the night that Voldemort would die, along with all his followers. It was still up in the air as to whether Harry would stay in Britain after that; it all depended on what Dumbledore would do this year.

When he, Hermione, and the Weasleys arrived at King's Cross Station at 10:50 a.m. on September 1st, he desperately wanted to cackle at the sight of a desperate Lucius Malfoy speaking to Bertrandus Nott, who looked equally desperate and bedraggled, while their now illegitimate sons, Draco and Theodore, tried to look stoic in their own bedraggled robes.

He smiled when he spotted small clusters of parents around the station, eyeing the two formerly noble patriarchs of their families. From his research and Voldemort's memories, he knew that those clusters were populated almost entirely by Death Eaters or Dark Supporters. Carefully, he walked around each cluster of people and placed a time-delayed, disillusioned, powerful grenade into each of their pants pockets. It was set for eight at night, when they were sure to be having dinner with their partners, and not in a meeting with Voldemort. Lastly, Harry put on his cloak and snuck grenades into Lucius, Bertrandus, Draco, and Theodore's pockets. It was amazing that the concept of pick-pocketing or planting evidence hadn't occurred to purebloods yet.

All too soon, the train conductor signalled for ten minutes to go, so Harry went back to his friends and followed them into a train compartment. However, Ron and Hermione left for the Prefect compartment very quickly, so Harry was left behind with Neville, Ginny, and Luna. It wasn't too bad, really, and at least he got some pretty birds to stare at. Both Ginny and Luna had filled out beautifully over the summer, but it was Luna that captured his attention. Ginny was far too headstrong and dominant for his tastes, and though it would be a pleasure to break someone that strong, he knew that she would end up looking like her mother in the end.

Luna, on the other hand, looked like she could almost be Astoria Greengrass' twin sister, and he did love the time he spent with that girl. He was getting hard just thinking about watching Luna and Astoria going at it in the corner of the room while he used some other whore to satisfy his needs. He supposed he'd have to see about kidnapping Luna at some point and making her his slave. Simple, he just had to get one of his necklaces around her neck and she was his for the taking.

As the train journey went on, however, Harry could feel what was left of his sanity slipping away in the face of Slughorn's constant questioning of the night his parents died, and his fame, and the prophecy, and blah, blah, blah. When the man moved on to someone else, Harry realised that he didn't want to have to put up with _any_ of the things that Hogwarts would bring. He already had his OWLs, so he was legally allowed to leave Hogwarts, he was emancipated, with two Lordships which he didn't give a flying fuck about, he had his apparition licence, and with Voldemort soon to be dead, he didn't think he could be bothered to go through the monotony of school if he couldn't get 24/7 access to his slaves.

As he returned from Slughorn's little lunch, his mind spinning with how much he didn't want to be here, he knew coming up with an alternate plan was in order. The plan would have to severely shock all of magical Britain and cause them to be totally discombobulated. He pondered his problem all throughout the rest of the trip, mostly ignoring everything that happened around him, but it wasn't until he was sitting at the Gryffindor table, staring at Dumbledore, that he knew what he wanted to do.

He kept his Normal-Harry mask on for the rest of the feast, and managed to stay in character all the way to his dorm room. He cast a tempus and was relieved when it was only six thirty-five at night. Without further ado, he slipped out of bed once he heard everyone's snores, fetched his Firebolt and the spare necklaces Nymph had made, shrunk his trunk down, opened the window, and leapt out. It was a freezing cold night, yes, but what he was about to do was more than worth braving the cold.

He flew to McGonagall's window, opened it, and snuck inside. He took his dagger from its sheath on his calf, crept into her bedchamber, petrified her, and slit her throat. As she gargled on her own blood and looked at him with panicked eyes, Harry enlarged his trunk and started dumping everything in the room that looked useful inside. He magically searched the room, looking for secret rooms or safes, but found none. Then he left the way he came, leaving the cooling dead body of his father's favourite teacher behind.

His next stop was the Gryffindor girl's dorms, where he methodically worked through each year, taking the girls he liked the look of after placing a controlling necklace around their necks. Then, he systematically murdered each and every adult in the castle, stole what belongings of theirs he desired, and kidnapped the girls he wanted from each house. Finally, covered in blood and with an insane glint in his eye, he took all the dead teachers and set them up in their chairs in the Great Hall. Everyone who had survived his purge would be quite traumatised, he was sure.

He left the grounds, still on his broom, and apparated away to where he knew Voldemort was hiding, the moment he felt he had left the wards. He dismounted carefully, covered himself with his trusty cloak, and entered the mansion. Knowing Voldemort as well as he did, he knew the monster had almost certainly commandeered the master bedroom for himself. He smiled grimly when he saw the snake curled up in front of the fireplace, and snuck over to her. When he was a foot from her, she stirred, so he quickly cast a silencing bubble around the two of them before using the dagger to slice her head clean off.

Once the screaming of the horcrux inside her had ceased, he cancelled the spell and snuck up on the sleeping Tom Riddle. Another silencing charm later, he pulled out his Beretta and shot the man, point blank, in the head. "Looks like the power you know not is modern Muggle weapons, Tom," Harry joked to the corpse. It didn't answer, but then again he didn't expect it to. He made a portkey to the Ministry atrium which would activate at ten the next morning, and placed it on Tom’s chest.

He went out the front door after he'd purloined everything useful from the majority of the house, skipped past the ward boundary, and cast tempus once again. He watched with a calm he hadn't known he possessed as the time turned to exactly eight p.m. Then, while Death Eaters and Dark Supporters all over Britain were exploding, Harry activated the portkey around his neck and disappeared to a moving tropical island somewhere in the Atlantic, never to be seen or heard from in Britain again.

*

Harry watched from afar how Wizarding Britain coped with the actions of his madness, and was pleased. There was widespread terror and anarchy for a whole decade after his disappearance; the goblins had left them to their squalor, the ministry had been dismantled by angry mobs, and Diagon Alley was now a graveyard. He had been slightly surprised when Fred and George Weasley had managed to get into contact with him through his whore house in the Hebrides, which he still regularly visited.

The twins had begged him to help them start anew in a different country, and had informed him that Britain was now somewhat operating under a feudal system and the Weasley family had somehow managed to wedge themselves into the bottom rung of the social system. Mrs Weasley was keeping Mr Weasley under powerful love potions to keep him happy with her. Bill was safe in France with his wife, Fleur, who had discovered that her sister had been kidnapped after visiting her parents in New Zealand, and still believed Gabrielle was out there somewhere. Harry had debated whether to enslave her as well, but eventually decided that watching from afar as her misery and hopelessness destroyed her was better than having her as a second mature Veela slave. Besides, Cow and her daughters were more than enough for him in that regard.

Charlie had been called back to England because of his status as a Weasley and had been forcefully married three years ago to Millicent Bulstrode, whose family was socially superior to the Weasleys'. Ron had dutifully married a girl called Romilda Vane after he'd gotten her pregnant during a one night stand. Ginny had been forced by her mother to drop out after finishing her OWLs and marry Michael Corner. Fred and George had been married to Angelina and Alicia, respectively, but the two women had died in childbirth, along with their babies, nearly a year ago, and their mother had recently started nagging them about getting new brides.

Their joke shop had failed, they had fifty galleons in total to their names, and had desperately needed to get out of the country. Harry had been their last hope, because the rest of Europe wanted nothing to do with magical Britain and had closed their magical borders. The only ones getting through to Europe were Muggleborns who were too young to know about magic, or had chosen to go to a school other than Hogwarts.

Harry had simply blinked and asked, "What makes you think I owe you anything so momentous that I would do something like that for you? I haven't been in Britain for ten years; I have over a hundred gorgeous slaves who provide me with everything I could ever want, I have countless children who will soon be old enough to spread throughout the world and carry on my legacy, and millions of galleons to spend on whatever I fancy.

"When you last saw me, I was wearing a mask, one I haven't had to wear for _ten years_. _You_ decided to stay in Britain when it was falling apart, _you_ didn't complete your NEWTs, which could have let you get other jobs after your shop failed, and _you_ are the ones who don't have the spines to stand up to your mother about still being in mourning, or hand her in to your feudal Lord for using what I assume are illegal potions. I am sorry that your lives did not turn out the way you wanted, and I am sorry your wives and children died—I cannot imagine how terrible that must have been for you, as I have been blessed with healthy pregnancies and births thus far. I am afraid that you two will have to leave the premises, and I will inform my receptionist not to allow you entry if I am in a publicly accessible area. Good day."

The looks on their faces would have been heartbreaking, had Harry not cracked all those years ago. Harry's heart had died that day, and after ten years away from the nonsense of British magical people, he had mentally cut all ties to his former life long ago. Now, as he made his way to his personal suite, ready for a nice, long torture session, followed by some fucking, Harry could afford to say he was happy with his life. He may be a self-serving, sadistic, hedonistic, slave-owning, incest-loving monster, but—wait, why was he even bothering to validate his actions when he'd already perfectly described his reasoning?

Sanity was overrated anyway.


End file.
